


The Void Changes All

by Azurehue22



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-07
Updated: 2020-02-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:42:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 27,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22593463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azurehue22/pseuds/Azurehue22
Summary: With N'Zoths return, Kale Zaxon, renowned scholar and master of the shadows, has forsaken his family and his ties to defeat N'Zoth. Meeting Wrathion again after threatening his life; the two of them learn to tolerate each other: One reveres the void. The other reviles it.They grow rather close in the process. Runs parallel to my other fic, Division of Hearts and Minds.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 8





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My first m/m fic. I adore this pairing and I hope you enjoy this fic as much as I enjoy writing it. NOTE: I will not tolerate anyone bashing my original race. I don't care if you think they're weird, if you don't like them, you can click the back button.

Kale lay on his back, completely winded. Every muscle, every piece of bone and sinew, was agony. Breathing was difficult. He raised a shaking hand, and noticed it jagged, cracked. Scales, glowing green with fel, permeated his once pale skin. The fingertips ended in torn claws. He let the hand fall. N’Zoth had taken back the power he’d stolen. He was a broken husk again. He tried to focus on his surroundings, but found it difficult. He was laying on sand, that was certain, but it wasn’t the hard packed sand of silithus. More dusty. Tanaris? Uldum?  
“To answer the question on your lips, we’re had the now abandoned ‘pleasure palace’ between Feralas and Silithus.” Oh that voice. It was everything he hated, boiled into one annoying whelpling. He sat up with difficulty.  
“They are called the Steam Pools.”  
“It makes no difference.” Wrathion sat down beside him, looking none the worse for wear. It was galling, that the young whelp was left with nothing but a scratch running down his face, but Kale could barely breathe.  
“You are…yourself again.” Wrathion said the words as if he wanted to laugh, but when he turned to look at Kale, there was concern in his eyes. Kale bit back a retort.  
“This is not me! This is what the Legion left of me after they had finished their experiments.” He spat the words, anger coursing through him. If it weren’t for the dragon next to him, it would never have happened. Azeroth would be in relative peace. N’Zoth would still imprisoned. This was all down to Wrathion.

Who seemed to understand that. He bowed his head.

“You need to wash your wounds. I suppose you can’t feel them.” He gestured to Kale’s midriff, who glanced down. The shirt he’d been wearing, a light cloth tunic, was stained scarlet. Oh yes. He was bleeding. What a shock. He shucked off the shirt and crawled down the sandy beach towards the spring, every step painful. He’d almost forgotten this existence. It was not him. If Nefarian was here, it wouldn’t be as bad, but alas. He wasn’t. He’d sent him away. 

“You lived like this? For years?” He heard Wrathion ask. Kale grit his teeth as the water surged over his stomach. Dirt and debris washed away to expose a very jagged gash. It was just short of gutting him. He sucked in a breath.  
“For around four. I’ve been told. I lost track.” He let out a chuckle.  
“It’s easy to forget when you can walk without pain. Breathe again. My drake form gave me some comfort; the bones and muscles lined up in that form.” He found other wounds: a gash on his leg, which had split his pants into short. He tore them off; they were in tatters and he’d find something else to wear later. In the meantime, he could suffer in his Planore form. He turned around. Wrathion was looking determinedly away.

“How did you manage to make it out of there unphased?” Wrathion pointed to the graze on his cheek, which Kale laughed off.  
“Oh please. That hardly constitutes as papercut, let alone an injury.” The whelp smiled.  
“I suppose not. Perhaps it’s because I hadn’t stolen power from a monster. That tends to make them angry. Or because I don’t allow them in my mind.” Kale scowled.  
“Nor do I. Watch yourself.” Kale scooted his way up the embankment, collapsing a little ways away. Water rushed over him. It was agony. An existence the likes he wanted to forget. Hands found his own, and pulled him up, onto drier sands.  
“Do you have spare clothes?”  
“I’m a Planore. I have several shapes to choose from.” He was about to change into his drake form, when Wrathion placed a hand on his shoulder. Kale froze at his touch. He turned and felt something shift within him.   
“You nearly died back there.”  
“Not the first time.” He felt his breath catch. What was happening? Could he really be attracted to this…whelp? Wrathion squeezed his shoulder and let go, but Kale grabbed his hand, pulling back. Glowing red eyes met his own.  
“I’ve been meaning to ask you something.” Kale breathed. He really had chosen an attractive form. Kale had nothing to lose. He was no longer married to Alycia. He had forsaken his past life, devoting the rest of his to defeating N’Zoth. He could…take a leap. Wrathion raised a brow.   
“And what would that be.”  
“Why do your eyes glow?”  
“You saw me move earth before. Perhaps you could use that scholarly mind of yours and figure it out.” The tease was all Kale needed to make his move. He kissed him. Wrathion didn’t pull away, merely pushed deeper, hungry. Kale pushed him to the sands, their hands clasped together. He pulled away, trailing his lips down Wrathion’s jawline.  
“K-Kale…” Kale didn’t stop. He moved to his neck. Dragons sculpted their forms. He learned it from Nefarian. Down to the last pore; they chose every inch of their mortal visage. He sucked on soft skin, feeling claws dig into his back, drawing yet more blood.  
“Stop.” He ceased. He sat up straight, feeling a surge of pain has reality hit him.  
“You’re bleeding on me.” Wrathion unclasped his coat, tearing it in two. Kale gave him a look of surprise, to which the dragon merely shrugged.  
“I can make new ones.”  
“It was…” He grunted as he wrapped the shreds of fabric around his belly, tying it tight.  
“It was my perception that Dragons had to procure clothes like anyone else.”  
“Odd. Dragon aspects generally make them as part of the illusion.” He moved onto his leg, tearing the fabric in a smaller strip, and tying it tight. Kale grunted.  
“It’s still actual cloth. How does that work.”  
“A mage conjures mana strudels. They’re edible.” Wrathion shrugged. “I’m not a blue dragon. Ask Kalecgos.” Silence fell between them. Wrathion looked sideways at Kale, who desperately wanted to continue. Confusion welled up inside of him. Since when had he been attracted to men? Or was it just Wrathion? Was it the fact he’d saved his life? Was all this just gratitude? And why did the whelp seem to be just as attracted? Kale had beaten him nearly to death a few years prior.  
He reached out a hand. Wrathion grasped it, fingers closing around his. He pulled him close, running his free hand through his hair, thumb down his jawline. He felt small, pointed ears buried under the hair, and pulled it back.  
“A half-elf?” Wrathion smiled.  
“I like the ears. Though normal elves tend to a bit…ostentatious.”  
“Could do without the foot-long ears and eyebrows, I guess.” He kissed him, pulling him to the sand. He forgot his pain, the fact every joint seemed to be agony. For this one blessed moment, he was free. Bare skin to skin, he rolled Wrathion around, pinning him beneath him. He felt him chuckle.  
“Oddly virile for wounds such as yours.”  
“I’ve always been that way.” Kale grinned. Wrathion cocked his head.  
“Pointed teeth?”  
“You didn’t know?”  
“Obviously not.” Kale leaned down to kiss him again, trailing his lips across his own. He felt Wrathion arch his back, felt arousal beneath his belly.   
“Planore have pointed canines. We were…hunters back in the day.” He released his hands, running his own down his body, coming to rest at the waistband of heavily adorned trousers made from a mixture of leather and what felt to be silk woven by the nightbourne. He tugged, feeling him suck in a breath.  
“Fascinating. Does not explain your kinship with dragons.” He felt hands tug at the corners of his undergarments. He sat up with difficulty, letting him take the lead, pulling them to his ankles, feeling himself spring free. He hadn’t been this aroused in…what was it? A few months now? He forced the images of Alycia out of his mind.   
“I can’t explain that myself. I’ve researched most of my life. It seems to have started with me.” He watched as Wrathion studied him, feeling oddly vulnerable under those scarlet eyes. He again pulled him close, his hands wrenching pants down, feeling a spring of elation as he kicked them off.

Water lapped at their ankles. They’d moved from the dry sands to the warm, sodden sands near the shoreline.   
“You’re certain that resort is deserted?” Kale asked, pulling Wrathion on top of him. Hands gripping the sand, he glanced up at the tall walls that circled the hotel.  
“Quite. Why? Ashamed to be seen?” He fell over him. Kale arched neck as he felt kisses barrage his skin, teeth gently nibbling. He reached down, grasping his length, feeling completely confident despite having never held another man in his hands. He heard him gasp, felt the rough scratch of chest hair on his own.  
“Surely you expected this.” He ran his lips up his jawline. Wrathion’s eyes were closed.  
“I…don’t know what I expect. This is all very strange.” Kale continued to grasp his length, feeling his own twitch against his belly. Wrathion had sculpted himself very well. Down to the tiniest detail.   
“You really put in detail down here, didn’t you.” He heard him chuckle.  
“I’ve…always found mortal men very attractive.”  
“What is it with dragons and mortals?” Kale teased. He kissed him, drinking him in. Wrathion pulled away. He slowly backed away, back to the sand. Kale followed, never letting go. Wrathion mirrored his movements, and Kale gasped. He had a fantastic grip.  
“You’ve done this before.”  
“I can assure you, I have not.” He raised a brow, before pulling Kale closer.   
“This is all very new to me.” Hot, furious kisses. His legs wrapped around Kale’s body, wrenching out of grasp. Kale felt a very primal need. He glanced at Wrathion, who looked at him with a vulnerability that was foreign to him. He pressed his forehead to his, running his slick hands down his cheeks.  
“New to me, as well.”  
“You have a wife.” Kale let out a bark of laughter. It echoed around the valley.  
“Sex with a woman is very different then sex with a…” He paused. Wrathion cocked his head, glancing down.  
“a man?” Kale shook himself. If he stopped, that pain would come back. He pulled his hips towards him, felt clawed fingers dig into his shoulder blades. Renewed pain surfaced, red hot knives piercing his skin. It felt glorious. It was a different sort of agony, one he could live with if only he could feel this heart-racing pleasure. He pushed himself in. He felt the claws tear at his skin, felt him suck in a breath. 

He was glad the resort was deserted. Moans echoed through the valley, glancing off the water. As it turns out, dragons were loud when they made love. Not that that was what Kale was doing. It was furious, bone shattering pleasure he was after. An escape from his tormented reality and damaged ego. He thrust, groans escaping his lips. He hadn’t had sex in months. Truth be told, Kale was never really into it. Alycia was the one woman he looked at after years of being buried in books. And now he was with a man.

Well, a dragon. Who, truth be told, was an excellent lover. It was the scratching that made it pristine. Like sweet and salty, the pain and pleasure mixed together made for an excellent, brain melting concoction. It helped that he was also dizzingly attractive, with chocolaty skin a rough tangle of dark hair. How many other people had he missed out on, during his years buried in books? Why was he wasting his first time with a man on Wrathion, of all people? Frustration coursed through him, causing him to slam with renewed vigor against him. He felt hands grasp his chin, pulling him into a kiss that ran fire through his veins. He let out a yell as he came. Sweaty hair fell into his eyes. He glanced down at Wrathion. Chest heaving, eyes closed, he raised his hands to Kales face. Kale pressed his cheek into them, before collapsing beside him.

He felt arms wrap around him, pulling him close.   
“I have to ask why. Call it the scholar in me.” Kale ran his hands over his face, wiping sweat from his brow. A watery sun illuminated them, peeking from behind the clouds.  
“I suppose I’ve…whats the word you mortals use? Feelings?” He spat the word, disgusted by it. Kale looked at him incredulously.   
“I nearly killed you.” Wrathion shrugged.  
“I’ve seen what you’ve done. The sacrifices you’ve made. I’ve heard what you did for Lordearon. I suppose I…understand why you acted that way. I’d have done the same for my friends.”  
“We’re categorically different, you and I.” Wrathion flashed a grin.  
“Part of your charm, I suppose. That…deadly attraction. All my life…and as you say, short, has been fighting the shadows. Yet you’ve embraced them to great affect.” Kale let out a cough. He glanced down at his bandages. Blood oozed out of them, soaking through. He supposed the vigorous actvity hadn’t helped in clotting, not that a wound such as that would close on its own.

“You need stitches. We need to get you back to the heart chamber right away.” His tone changed, from lazy to urgent. Kale glanced around.  
“I can’t enter the heart chamber.” Wrathion stood up, raising his arms. In a swirl of dark energy, he dressed himself, offering a hand to Kale. He remained on the ground.   
“I’m still quite naked, and I can’t do what just did.” The dragon rolled his eyes.  
“Does that really matter?”  
“Mortal dignity is a strange thing. I’d rather not have world see my cock and balls.” Sighing in indignation, Wrathion leapt into the air, transforming into a drake. Kale’s eyes went crosseyed. He was beginning to feel very dizzy. The child like part of his brain cried out for Nefarian.

There was no answer.

“Don’t move. I’m going to search for something to cover you up. Idiot.” He flew off towards the resort. Kale resisted the urge to transform into a more comfortable form. Blood oozed out into the sand. He was amazed he hadn’t bled more earlier. With all that thrusting. A form wooshed over him, dropping a sheet over his head.  
“Cover yourself. We aren’t far from the chamber. Climb on my back, I’d rather not cause more damage.”  
“I mean, you’ve already-.”  
“Enough prattling!” Urgency was plane in his voice. Kale wrapped the sheet around himself, feeling extremely awkward, before climbing onto of the drake. This was what he used to look like. It felt like ages ago. Before, he could soar. Feel the wind his scales. Instead, he was clutching to someone else. He pressed his face into the crook of Wrathions neck as he took off, flying high into the sky, dashing over the border of Silithus.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kale warns Wrathion against their relationship. Wrathion, as a counter offer, offers him something he can't refuse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My plans for this fic have blossomed over the several days I've spent writing it. Kale and Wrathion really are good together. The best parts are the flying.

Night had fallen. Silthus was, as always, cloudless. The sky however, couldn’t be seen over the brilliant glow of the azerite leaking from the gaping wound left by Sargeres. Kale gazed at the billowing wisps of smoke, his eyes unfocused. The past week had been hell for him, but he had, once again, persevered. He always seemed to survive. He shook himself, watching as an Azerite Crag smashed the ground in fury; twin fists cracking the already agonized earth. Footsteps shook him out of his reverie, and he turned. Wrathion approached, an ever-present smirk on his face. He stopped beside him, before sitting down alongside him. They didn’t speak for a time. Kale was remembering; quite vividly, the moment they shared at the steam pools only a few days ago. He had mixed feelings about it.

“How are your wounds?”  
“Better, since the druids at the encampment patched me up.” He felt his gaze.  
“Wrathion.”  
“Kale.”  
“Don’t do this to yourself.”  
“I wasn’t aware I was doing anything to myself.” Kale gave him an exasperated look, to which Wrathion, thankfully, looked away.  
“I can’t give you what you’re looking for.”  
“And what is it, dear scholar, am I looking for?”  
“A man who loves you back. I can’t give you that. Despite what…I shared with you.” Wrathion stood up. Kale watched as he stepped in front of him.  
“I’m the last of my kind. Truth be told, I never expected to find anyone.” He looked to Kale.  
“I don’t honestly care. I’ll take what I can get.”  
“You’ll get hurt.”  
“I’ve been through worse.”  
“Have you been through heartbreak, Wrathion?” He crouched down, eyes level with Kale. Those glowing red eyes pierced into his own.  
“Have you? How old are you, anyways?” Kale let out a laugh.  
  
“I’m fifty-five years old, Wrathion. Been through a lot of heartache. A lot of trauma.” The dragon’s eyes widened. He stepped back some.  
“Yeah. A bit older than you.”  
“You wear your age extraordinarily well. I’ve met mortals half your age who look twice.”  
“Planore tend to age well.” He stretched, instantly regretting it as pain laced his belly and every joint popped. He winced, eliciting a frown from his companion.  
“I’ve been researching ways to ease your pain-.”  
“You think I haven’t?  
“Let me finish.” Kale rolled his eyes but let the whelp finish.  
“Holy magic exasperates the wounds. Druidic magic has no effect; they can’t find purchase on tainted ground. Skin would make little difference. He glanced at Kale, who eyed him.  
“The only option left would be shamanistic magic. I must admit, I don’t have many shaman friends. So, it leaves one option that falls beyond healing magic.”  
Kale raised a brow.  
  
  
“Beyond stealing a gods power, that is. I think you tried that, if you recall.”  
“Rub it in, whelp.” Wrathion grinned.  
“I heal you.” He let the words fall. It felt like they hit the ground, each landing with a hollow thud that echoed through the valley. Kale gaped at him.  
“You? Heal me? What are you, a green?”  
“I take offense to that.” He sat down next to Kale.  
“Wrathion, no.”  
“Allow me to-.”  
“You need to keep whatever power you have. You are by far the stronger of us two.”  
“Whatever power I give you can be renewed with time.” He reached out a tentative hand. Kale didn’t take it but didn’t stop him from grasping his shoulder.  
“It won’t take away all your pain, but it will allow you to move without agony.” Kale wasn’t convinced.  
“In all my years studying the Black Dragonflight, “healing powers” have never been high on the list.  
“How many texts have you found detailing what my flight did before our corruption? Before our maddness?” He grasped Kale’s shoulders.  
“This is as much for me as it is for you.” Kale smirked.  
“And how is that?”  
“Despite what you say, I don’t want to lose you.” Wrathion stepped back, surprised at the words. Kale gazed at him. Oddly enough, he found himself caring for him. If only a little.

  
“Fine. Not here. I know a place, not far.” Wrathion looked surprise at his sudden change of heart.  
“That took little convincing.”  
“It doesn’t take long to convince me to live a life without pain. Strange, isn’t?” Kale turned; feeling his snout elongate, claws pierce his nails. Scales burst through his skin. Wings sprouted from shoulder blades and knees and elbows buckled. A sickly green drake appeared before Wrathion, who had his head cocked in apparent entertainment.  
“Are you entertained by a simple transformation?”  
“You Planore are fascinating.”  
“That’s great. When N’Zoth is finished and I’m dead, you can study us all you want at my funeral. They’ll give you the books I’ve written on my race. Now let’s get going.” He took off, soaring up and over the sands. He heard Wrathion utter a muffled curse, before following. He led him a dilapidated Night Elven structure, displaced into the mountains. Leaning ever slightly, it stood guard over Un’Goro crater. Beneath it was a tiny, one room house, which he flew into, nearly colliding into the wall with his momentum as he transformed back into his humanoid form. Wrathion was much more graceful. He stepped lightly into the house, his nose wrinkled in disgust at the dust.

“Listen, I was turned out of the Chamber. I’d rather not sleep on the sands. This will do.” Wrathion noticed the bed, which had been refitted with new sheets and bedding.  
“Stolen propety, eh?”  
“Do you expect any less from me?” Kale grinned, sitting down, fingers splayed in pain. There was a terrible ache in the small of his back that he couldn’t seem to fix, either. The Legion could have done a better job putting him back together. Really.

“I suppose not.” He sat next to him, poised at the very edge, nervous. Odd for the dragon, who had just been in his element. Kale exhaled, closing his eyes, before speaking.  
“So whats this big cure of yours?”  
“It’s not a cure. It’s merely an…ease of symptoms.” Wrathion took his hand, and Kale let him.  
“Well, get on with it then.” He looked at his companion who smiled slightly. Kale chuckled.  
“I see. You’re going to make me work for it.”  
“Not exactly. I just…don’t know how else to do it.” Kale reached out with his free hand, cupping Wrathions cheek and running fingers through thick, curly hair. He pressed into his touch, yearning clear on his face.  
“I’m not sure where my desire comes from.” Kale whispered, pulling him close. He settled him on his chest, leaning back into the wall.  
“Nor mine.” Kale scoffed, holding him tight. Wrathion grinned, eyes closed.  
“I have a question.”  
“Endless questions with you.”  
“It is, as you say, the scholar in me.”  
“Speak your mind.” Kale kissed the top of his head.

  
“Did you have feelings for the King?” Wrathion froze, his once relaxed form tensing. He sat up, glaring at Kale, who held his hands up in defense.  
“I’m just asking. I’ve been curious.” Wrathion glared at him a moment longer, before letting out a sigh.  
“I suppose I did. It’s all very confusing. I was young and-.”  
“You still are.”  
“Younger. I knew at the time I felt it that it would never be returned. Something that seems to be following me.” He made to get up, but Kale took his arm, pulling him back.  
“Was made very clear in the throne room.”  
“Oh how your feelings towards me have changed.” Kale grinned. Wrathion rolled his eyes.  
“I still have scars from when you nearly killed me.” Kale cocked his head.

  
“Show me.” Wrathion gave him a look, before pulling off his coat, exposing a rough tangle of chest hair that sent Kale’s heart leaping. That body…had he felt this before and just not recognized it? Wrathion turned, pointing to a long, pale scar that crossed from his back to his middriff. He hadn’t seen it before. He reached out a hand, running a finger along it. Slightly raised, it brought to mind raking talons and droplets of blood. He’d been grappling with Wrathion in the air. Unaccustomed to such a large form, Wrathion was a poor opponent, easy to best. He’d slammed him into a wall, biting deep, slicing skin and scale and sinew.

  
“I’m not sorry.”  
“Nor should you be.” He sighed, sitting back down in Kale’s lap. Kale wrapped his arms around him, curious as to what other scars he could uncover.  
“I understand now, what you were protecting. You see them as friends, do you not?”  
“They aren’t friends. I just use that word as it’s easier than explaining what they truly are.”  
“Then what are they?” He let out a shudder of breath as Kale starting to undo his trousers, pulling them to his knees.  
“They are…under my protection. Or were. With me, it seemed the whispers were lessened somewhat. Those unholy urges to maim and kill were quenched. They could lead somewhat peaceful lives. Nefarian was the best of them. I’m ever thankful he didn’t eat me when he found me as a whelp.”

  
“And yet, you embraced that which you fought.”  
“I grew up with shadow magic. Nefarian dropped me into endless fights, expecting to get myself out of them, or die. I had to use what I could to survive.” Wrathion let out a hollow laugh, watching as Kale took him in his hands and began a slow, aching pace. He squirmed, running his lips along Kale’s neck.

  
“I’d like to hear about that, one day.” Kale shrugged, running his fingertips up and down, knowing the sensations would be too much to bear. He really was very pretty. He was reminded of his time in Dreanor with the endless, awe-inspiring beauty. It had taken his breath away as he studied it. Wrathion was doing the same now.

  
“You are…almost too much bear.” He kissed the top of his head again. Wrathion tore his hands away, holding them tight. His grip brought renewed pain to the forefront, and he let out a yelp. Wrathion lessened his grip.  
“Perhaps we should move on with the ritual.” He turned, kneeling on the bed. It had lost most of its cushion over the years and was more akin to a stone slab covered in cloth than bed. Still, the affect it had on Kale, who was beneath Wrathion, legs splayed, clad only in a filthy linen shirt and pants, was not lost on him. He was vulnerable.

  
“That would be wise. I…don’t like feeling this.” He held out a hand, showing the bare knuckles, bones protruding through thin skin. Scales illuminated with fel. Wrathion took it, pulling close. Letting go of his hand, he wrapped his arms around him, and with renewed vigor, kissed him. Kale let him, pushing deep into the kiss. Fingertips digging into his shoulder blades, he felt energy course through him, rushing through his veins. He kissed him again, running his lips down Kale’s jaw, towards his neck, letting him drink in the power he now felt. Pain evaporated. Bones set back into place. His skin turning supple and young again. He took that renewed strength and pulled Wrathion even closer, feeling him jut against him, arousal plane beneath his trousers.

  
“It’s not a cure.”  
“As you’ve stated.” Kale pulled away; eyes lidded. This was…heaven. The pain was gone! He was…himself again. He raised a hand to his face. It was as it had been years ago. Before the Legion. Before N’Zoth.  
“Still…this is incredible.” He gripped Wrathion’s jaw, pulling him close. He grinned.  
“How can I thank you?”  
“I think you know how you can thank me.” He snuggled in close, his head pressed to Kale’s chest, arms hugging him tight. Kale was momentarily taken aback.  
“You…don’t want sex?”  
“Not at the moment, no.” He took a shuddering breath.  
“I am…exhausted. Just need a moment.” Kale held him tight, one arm wrapped around his bare body, the other trailing up, hand running through his hair. Alright. Just a moment though. Just a wonderful moment. Then he would fly again.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An attack occurs that drives Kale into action, despite the fact he's unable to join the others due to his unique "gifts"

Kale woke up to the sound of Wrathion letting out a yelp from atop him. Opening his eyes, he noticed him sitting on the bed, holding his head as if in pain. Concern ran through him.  
“What is it?”  
“It’s Magni. Speaking through me.” He shook himself.  
“I don’t like that he can do that.” He turned, looking at Kale, who was having trouble seeing anything but his glowing eyes in the darkness.  
“Can’t you block his telepathy?”  
“I suppose I could. However, it’s too useful to ignore. He was merely giving me an update, though it seems we have been missed.”  
“You have, you mean.” Wrathion inclined his head.  
“Don’t discredit yourself Kale. It’s because of you the Forge is working again.” Kale scoffed, sitting up. It was the first time in many days he had awoken, sat up, and felt no pain.  
“This is incredible. How long did you say it would last?” Wrathion gave him a small smile.  
“I don’t know, Kale. Long enough to get you through a few days.” He stood up, crossing to where he’d thrown his coat. Kale watched him walk. He had a graceful, smug walk. It looked practiced, though it was probably just his natural gait. Still, even in the dim light of night, the fine contours of his body excited him. Did they have leave just yet?  
“Wait.” He splayed open his hand, conjuring an orb of shadow. He watched Wrathion turn, his eyes on the ball of shadow, eyebrow raised.  
“Come here.”  
“What do you-.” Kale released the ball, which hovered in the air.  
“Better to see you with. Now come here.” Wrathion smirked and obliged. He approached Kale.   
“What.”   
“You have the most beautiful body.” He grasped him in his hands, and with a moment’s hesitation, wrapped him in his mouth. Wrathion let loose a low gasp, hunching over, his hands gripping Kale’s hair. Kale grinned, running his mouth along him. To his credit, he tasted as good as he looked. Soft skin, made ever sweeter by the moans he elicited from his companion. Wrathion gasped, tugging at his hair, thrusting his hips into Kale’s face.  
“D-don’t stop.” Kale replied with a low murmur of assent, mouth full as it was. The whimpers were too sweet. He should have done this more. It was heaven. Fifty-five years old, and he just now gave head to a man?  
“You taste so good.” He whispered, running his hands along his shaft as he looked up. Wrathion had his eyes closed, concentration clear on his face. He opened an eye.  
“I don’t know how to respond to that.”  
“I wouldn’t know either.” Kale dove back in, hands pushing him towards him. His moans reached a fever pitch, and Kale took it, eyes opening as he came down his throat. Muttered apologies.  
“I’m sorry, I didn’t expect…it was…” Kale swallowed, wrenching his face. Had he just done that?  
“Don’t apologize.” He looked up. Wrathions chest heaved, and he pulled Kale up. Though Kale wasn’t tall for his race, he was a head taller than Wrathion, who seemed to take his visage based on elves. He gripped his chin.  
“If you have based yourself on humans, you’d be taller.”  
“And miss out on all the fun elves have? Not a chance.”  
“No one but me knows you’re a half elf, whelp.” Wrathion grinned, kissing him.  
  
“Thank you for that.”  
“I expect you to return the favor.” He glanced down. Already, he felt a hunger for that body. He’d pitched quite a tent in his trousers, which he ignored as Wrathion stepped away.   
“I intend too. However, there is business I should attend to.” He made a face. Kale cocked his head.  
“I…promised King Anduin a report several months ago. I suppose it slipped my mind.” He rubbed his cheek absently, to which Kale grinned.   
“Oh, you enjoy that.” Wrathion shook his head an exited. Kale, instead, dove back on the bed, covering his face with his hands. Oh, his life was a mess. It had always been a mess, but now it was double a mess. It was the biggest reason he buried himself in books. Couldn’t get feelings for books. Couldn’t break a books heart. Couldn’t cover a book in kisses, want to devour his body…  
  
He remembered, quite suddenly, Alycia. His heart leapt at the thought of her. What was she up too, in Mareder? Hopefully the splinter in the Alliance hadn’t affected it too much. Mareder would always stand with Stormwind. At least, it would have under his reign. Under Nyota’s perhaps not. Kale raised a tentative hand in the air, and traced an oval, muttering incantations as he did so. Shath’yar was a strange, beautiful language. A language of chaos and far too many consonants. He evoked an image, one of his old bedroom quarters in the palace. Alycia was there alright. She just wasn’t alone.  
  
  
“You know, I always waited for you to leave him.” She smacked her companion, who lay naked beside her. A Planore around her age he was bronzed, statuesque, and about everything Kale wasn’t. He swallowed hard.  
“I could never leave Kale. Don’t speak about him that way.” She turned determinedly away from him. The man, whom he recognized as Davies, looked hurt.  
“What? Please, Alyica. He didn’t deserve you.”  
“Perhaps not. I loved him all the same.” She turned to her companion.  
“Just as I love you.”  
“If Kale comes back-.” His stomach wrenched.  
“He won’t.”  
“If he comes back, would you leave me?”  
“I would. But I can promise you, he won’t come back. Kale has made up his mind.” The man looked away.  
“We’ve been friends for years.”  
“Davies…” She leaned into kiss him, her hands cupping his cheeks, long golden hair running down her back. Kale’s mouth went dry, and he closed the screen, his heart breaking. This was what he had told her to do. This was what he expected. He knew it would happen, just…  
  
Seeing it made it worse. He still loved her. He still needed her. Why did he forsake her? He screamed in fury, lashing out, punching a hole through the delicate, deteriorating wall. He had devoted the rest of his life to defeating N’Zoth. It was happening too slowly, too damn slowly. He needed it to happen now. With a cry, he leapt out of the bed, rushed out the door, and leapt into the air. Flapping his wings, he climbed higher and higher, feeling the rush of wind over his scales, the biting cold. Something inside him broke. He heard a whisper, a soft, gentle caress.  


_She never cared about you anyways._

The words agonized him. He opened his mouth wide, breathing in frozen air, before he felt a sharp pain crack across his right temple. He froze, his eyes darting back and forth, fear gripping him. He was under attack. Shadowy figures darted all around, their forms a miasma, growing and shrinking. He let out a draconic yell, slashing at one with his talons, but it simply reformed. They were attacking his mind, not his body.  


_Give in. Let go. You have always been mine._

Kale screamed, diving, urging his mind to ignore the whispers. He had to resist. He had to fight. The forms gave chase. They were faster, stronger. They swarmed around him, wrapping him in fear and chaos. He bit and slashed at them. Those he managed to destroy winked out, only to be replaced by another. He felt his wings give out. He was falling. Everything went black.

“Kale?” A voice rang out. Everything ached. He couldn’t move. Footsteps. The crunching of sand.  
“Kale! What the hell happened?!” Someone rushed to his side, skidding in sand. His bones felt broken, his face smashed in. Despite the agonizing pain, he was, in fact, alive.  
“You’ve broken nearly every bone in your winds, not to mention your muzzle.” Kale managed to open a bleary eye. The whelp knelt before him, examining his wounds. He really was very beautiful, even in this dim light. It seemed to be just before dawn. He glanced at Kale’s face.  
“What happened?” Kale tried to speak, but felt his jaw dislocate. Wrathion hushed him, concern lighting up those glowing red eyes. He transformed in a flash, picking him up in gentle talons.  
“Don’t try to speak. I’ve made a few friends who can patch you up.” He flew for what seemed like hours to Kale, who watched endless sand pass beneath his broken body. What had happened? He didn’t remember much. Just flying, falling, and blackness.  
“I just healed your body, and you go breaking it again.” Wrathions voice was deeper in this form. Kale didn’t like it.  
“What attacked you, my friend. Aqir? Faceless?” Wrathion was musing aloud. No. It wasn’t that. Kale attempted to swish his tail, but it was too heavy to move.  
“Don’t try to move. You will only injure yourself further.” He was silent for a time. He was remarkably strong from a young drake, able to carry Kale and still keep a decent clip.  
“I’m lucky I found you. You know, I don’t like it when you wander so far from the encampment.” Kale bit back a nasty retort. It wasn’t up to Wrathion where he stayed. Kale could wander wherever.  
“I grew worried.” He flew lower, crossing over pocked earth, and finally, earth marred by crisscrossed, golden hued lines. He saw people. Heard gasps and shouts.  
“By the ancients, what happened?” A tauren female gasped.  
“Heal him best you can. My friend here has gotten into quite a scrape.” He felt himself deposited very gently on the ground. Wrathion turned him around, organizing his wings in the least uncomfortable fashion. Hands were laid on him, picking up his talons. Healing energy entered him, dousing him in a comforting light.   
“He’s broken nearly every bone in his body.” Someone commented. He felt a prod at his shoulder.  
“His face be a real mess, mon.” He could feel a troll poking around his face and resisted the urge to bite.  
“Heal his jaw first. I need him speaking.” He felt it knit back together, the sinew falling into place, and finally hissed in frustration.  
“Enough!”  
“Ah there he is!” Wrathion came into view. Kale, still immobilized by his injuries, snapped at him best he could. Wrathion merely smirked.  
“Angry I rescued you again? That’s a second time now.”   
“I would have been fine.” Kale seethed with embarrassment.  
“Ah yes. Fine. I suppose being picked apart by wild animals is a fair bit better than being captured by N’Zoths forces, but what do I know? I’m only twenty-three. As you continue to say.” He smiled, showing dazzling teeth. Kale rolled his eyes. He was started to gain control of his extremities. Wrathion knelt down on one knee, his expression going from teasing to extreme concern.  
“What happened Kale? Were you attacked?” He whispered. Kale   
“No. Not in the traditional sense.” Wrathion scowled.  
“Enough of your games.”  
“I am not playing games with you. Not today.” He could move his tail. He swished it back and forth.   
“Oi! Stop it! We’re tryna heal ya!” Kale stopped his thrashing.  
“N’Zoth attacked my mind.” Wrathion looked at him, his eyes widening in recognition, before stepping back. Healers busied themselves around him, knitting flesh and setting bones.   
“Alright mon. You should be good. Don’t be falling again, ya hear me?” A troll shaman bowed low. Kale bowed his draconic head, before transforming. His face felt tender.  
  
“We can go someplace more private, if you wish to discuss-.”  
“No. Right here is fine.” Kale felt the sudden urge to be anywhere else. The stares of the druids and shamans, coupled with how close Wrathion was, held him on age.  
“N’Zoth attacked my mind while I was flying. I blacked out. Fell.” He shrugged. Wrathion narrowed his eyes.  
“Now, I’m off to get some sleep.” Wrathion grabbed his wrist, tugging him back.  
“I don’t think so.” They were too close. Kale pulled away, glaring.   
  
“Chase me if you must. I’m going to sleep.” He walked away from the camp, determinedly putting his back to Wrathion, who was speechless in anger. He stepped out into the sands, one foot in front of the other, his mind racing. He’d been attacked. N’Zoth had attacked him. Him! He should be dead. A fall from that height. He remembered tasting ice. Yes. A fall from that height would have killed him. N’Zoth had spared him. Toying with him. Fury ran through him, urging him to fly. He jumped into the air, pumping his wings, letting out a cry. He heard an answering cry and spun around. Wrathion crouched low on the ground, red eyes pointed up at him. His horns gilded with golden hoops, he glinted in the rising sun. Kale bared his fangs, before shooting off. Wings beating furiously, he managed to cross Silithus in a matter of minutes, the looming form of the sword ever present in his periphery. He landed in his make-shift hut, crashing into the wall. It collapsed, sending splinters of wood over his body. Snorting in derision, he transformed, stumbling onto the bed. The hard slabbed knocked the wind out of him, and he lay there, momentarily stunned.  
  
N’Zoth had attacked him. He snarled into the bedsheets. Rolling around, he sat up, carving runes into the air. They flared to life, opening a pocket into the void, through which he reached. It was his own little pocket dimension, one he discovered only recently. He would have to clean it out now. Could no longer use it to store sensitive information. What a waste. He pulled out quill, ink, and parchment, along with a heavy, age-eaten tome he had discovered in Naz’jatar during his time there.  
  
It was time to get to work.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wrathion demands Kale bathes. Who is Kale to deny and aspect? Warning: Smut Chapter

Kale spent three days working on his transcription, sleeping very little. He ran out of ink halfway through, and deciding his blood would make a poor substitute, flew to Gagetzhan. An easy four hour flight, Kale spent most of it reading the tome. Untitled though it was, it held key information on the Old Gods. Written in the hand of a Naga Sea Witch, it detailed the hideous machinations of N’Zoth, and highlighted key points of his empire. Written entirely in Shath’yar, it was up to him to translate it.   
  
Gadgetzhan used to be a bustling city set on a well that had been dug ages ago by the Farraki. Now, it was a bustling port town. Goblins hawked wares at every street corner, and in the center of the town, a brutal arena. Kale managed to find his way to the center, a small smile playing on his lips as he looked into the rusted cage. Piles of fly covered gore speckled the cage, and he wrinkled his nose in disgust. He had once wanted to fight in that arena; if only once. To see how he could escape. He turned a corner, reveling in his newfound strength. Wrathion had given him quite the boon. He’d have to find a way to repay him. He’d visited the shop he was looking for only once; he didn’t get around to Tanaris often. It was a scribes shop; filled to the brim with scrolls, parchment, and inks of all colors and kinds. He stepped into it, his nostrils immediately filled with the scent of incense. He looked up to see an aged goblin; the tiniest tuft of white hair poking around large, sagging green ears.  
“What can I getcha today, my dear fella?” He hopped on the desk. Kale gave a polite nod.  
“Looking for ink. Need a lot of it.”  
“Ah! A scribe! I getcha, I getcha.” He hopped down, showing strength that belied his age, and gestured at the walls of inks.  
“What can I interest ya in?”  
“Black ink is fine.”  
“But purple! That color seems to suit you. I can see auras you know. It makes me a good shop keeper.” While purple did suit him, he needed black. He smiled. The shopkeepers eyes widened.  
“A planore! We don’t get many of those!” He took a vial of ink off the wall and handed it to him with shaking hands.  
“If you buy five vials of black ink, I’ll throw that one in for only 25 copper!” Kale held up the vial of ink. It was a plum shade of ink, with flecks of metallic throne in their for sheen.  
“The color of my city. Interesting.” He held it back.  
“But really, I’ll buy ten vials of black ink.” The goblin looked a bit put out, placing the vial back on the shelf. Kale noticed they didn’t sell well.  
  
“Alright, ten vials of black ink.” He hefted a box on the counter.  
“Bit boring if you ask me.”  
“I try to be.” The goblin eyed him.  
“Five gold for the box.”  
“You know, I could use some parchment too.” He handed him six gold. “Give me enough for that.” The goblin looked at him.  
“That is a lot of parchment.”  
“I’m doing a lot of work.” He watched as the little goblin hopped down again, grabbing a large box of parchment.   
“I hope you have a cart for all these. Parchment gets quite heavy!”  
“I’m strong enough. I thank you.” He exited the shop, carrying the box of ink and the large box parchment under both arms. All he needed now was a way to affix them to his back.   
  
It didn’t take long to find some leather straps thrown out by a leatherworker, which he hastily wrapped around the boxes, tying them to both his legs. He was lucky enough that no one in Gadgetzhan paid any heed to other souls. He’d look quite odd, tying parcels to his feet. With a flourish, he transformed, darting out before the guards could fire off crossbows, grinning as people yelled at the sudden appearance of a dragon.

It was dark by the time he arrived back at his hovel. He was noticing the power Wrathion had bestowed him was wearing off quicker than he’d have liked. Aches began to surface around his body, and scales began to erupt on his skin. He tutted, looking at his hands. At least they had dexterity enough to write. He uncorked a vial of ink, dipped his quill, and began to write afresh.   
  
The tome, he had discovered, was part of another mystery. Xal’talah, Blade of the Black Empire. It seems it had not been penned by a Naga sea witch, as he had thought, though the Naga had certainly gotten their claws into it. No, it had been penned even earlier then they. While parts were about the Naga, an older part of the book, its pages yellowed with age and the binding deteriorating, held references to that blade. He’d been curious about the weapon for a while.  
  
He scratched at his chin with the tip of his quill, blotting it with ink. Well. This was interesting. It stated that Xal’talah, or more so, the blade, was used to home a “long forgotten evil.” A fifth old god, perhaps? He gazed at the words, so intrigued he didn’t hear the flapping of wings until a silky voice reached his ears.  
“I must admit, I grew worried about you. I can see I needn’t have been.” Kale looked up; eyes bleary. He’d been staring at yellowing parchment for far too long.  
“You never need to worry about me. I am just a bookworm.” Wrathion took a step in, before wrinkling his nose in apparent disgust.  
“You, my friend, need a bath.” Kale ignored him, continuing to pour over the tome.  
“You reek of sewage and unwashed body.”  
“I’ve discovered something amazing.” Bracing himself, Wrathion entered, his nose wrinkled in disgust. He saw the destruction to his left, doing a double take.  
“What happened?”  
“Needed a bigger door. Listen, read this.” He pushed the tome towards Wrathion, who had his eyebrows knitted in frustration.  
“Kale, really. How long has it been since you slept?”   
“What do you know of sleep?”  
“I know that mortals require it.” He pulled the book closer.  
“This is all written in Shath’yar.”   
“So?”  
“I was under the assumption that most cannot read it.” He held the tome up.  
“I can read it just fine.” He patted the stack of parchment near him, which was covered in his lazy scrawl.  
“You learned Shath’yar? All on your own?” Kale nodded, pushing the book farther into Wrathions hand. Taking the hint, he read.  
“I was unaware the tome concerning Xal’talah had left her side. Where did you find this?” Wrathion asked, after finishing the paragraph.  
“Naz’jatar. I had no idea it was about the dagger. Excitement bubbled up in him. Finally, real progress.  
“The dagger is a prison! Empty now, by the looks of it.”  
“Aye. It seems Aszhara is in possession of it.” He set the tome down, rather gingerly, as if he felt his had picked up something tainted. Kale took it in hands, opening it back up.  
“How did she come to procure it? It seems to have changed hands many times in the last few years.”   
“Yes. The Blade once housed Xal’talah, a being of great malignance. Now that it, or rather, she, has been released…it is empty. It proved very useful to a certain sect of shadow priests during the last war with the Legion.” Wrathion stepped out of the house.  
“Now please Kale. We can discuss this more over a bath.” Kale froze.  
“Are you offering to join me?” He eyed him, his eyes running down his coat, settling on the hint of bare chest at his collar. Wrathion smiled.  
“I am. As long as it gets you out of this filthy hovel.” Kale shrugged.  
“Alright. If you insist. He gave an elaborate bow, setting aside his writing instruments, and set his hand on the tome. Instantly, it turned into a rather disgusting novel, it’s cover a raunchy depiction of a human female and male Tauren.  
“Interesting disguise spell.”  
“I picked up a few things when I haunted Dalaran for a few months.” Wrathion raised his eyebrows, his eyes taking on a glint.  
“Another story you will have to tell me.” Kale gave him a small smile.  
“Quite a line up you’ve asked of me.” He walked out of the house, and upon reaching fresh air, realized he DID smell. Sheepish, he turned to Wrathion, who had his head cocked and a smirk on his face.   
“So, the Steam Pools again?” Wrathion gave him a nod, before jumping into the air and flying away. Kale did the same. It was only a thirty-minute flight, and Kale had fun keeping pace with the younger drake. Wrathion let out a draconic roar, surging forward, and Kale grinned. He let him lead the way, staying on his tail, as they crossed the mountains. Wrathion landed gracefully on the beach, while Kale, with a shout, splashed into the water.   
  
The warmth of the water soaked into his scales, rushing over him. It was an exultant feeling, and he stood still, letting it soak into him further. Something hard hit him in the head, and he jolted upright, looking around. Wingbeats from overhead alerted him to Wrathion, who chuckled as he flew away. Beside him, floating in the spring, was a soft pink bar of soap. He must have looted it from the nearby resort. He took it in his talons, flying to the beach, where he transformed on the beach.  
“I see I’m not the only person whose been looting.”  
“I noticed many of the beds lacked sheets. I wonder who that could have been.” Kale smirked and began removing his clothes. He stopped, noticing Wrathion doing nothing.  
“You going to join me, or just watch?”  
“I was thinking of doing the latter.” Kale walked up to him, soap clutched in one hand, working the strings of his trousers with the other. Wrathion grinned as he took hold of his chin. Kale studied him for a moment, before kissing him. Kale pulled off his coat, letting it fall unceremoniously to the ground, before working on his pants.  
“Who’s going to soap me up?” He felt Wrathion grin into the kiss, before he was spun around and tossed into the water. He tripped, stumbling, and turned. Wrathion kicked off the rest of his clothing before walking in, that ever-present smug smirk on his face. Kale would have, once upon a time, slapped it off him. Now he wanted to kiss those lips, feel that soft skin and delicious body next to his. He took him by the hand, leading him to the waist deep center of the pools. He felt hands wrap themselves around his body.  
“You needed this.” He heard a growl, and turned, taking him in his arms.  
“Do dragons need to bathe?”  
“I suppose eventually. I enjoy a good bath.” Wrathion looked up at him, eyes lidded, one hand clutching a soap bar, the other wrapped around his body.  
“Would this constitute as one?”  
“No. This is a very good bath.” He kissed Kale, who pushed into it, hungry. That body was all his. All his. They stood in the water for some time, kissing, hands exploring each other’s bodies, before without warning, Wrathion pushed him backwards. Kale fell, splashing into the water. Sputtering, he glared at his companion, who laughed.  
“You needed to rinse.”  
“You ruined the moment.”  
“Oh, we were having a moment? Pardon me.” He took his wrist, pulling him up with strength that belied his small stature. He kissed him again, his lips running from Kales own down his neck, his upper body. He peppered him with small kisses.  
“Alright, am I clean now?” Kale smirked as Wrathion grew ever closer to his nethers. Running his hands through that thick glorious mane.  
“Not quite.” Wrathion looked up, frowning. He stood up, gripping Kale’s chin, who barred his teeth in anger. He did not like to be grabbed by the face by anyone.  
“A shave would do you well.”  
“Never. I happen to like the beard.”  
“A trim then?” His eyes were almost pleading. Kale considered.  
“If you can find some shears…sure. But only a trim.” He ran his own hands over his beard. It was a bit grown out. Thicker than he’d ever had it. Alycia would definitely make him shave. Wrathion gave him a lazy grin, burying his face in his chest. Kale held him close, letting the water drip off their bodies as they stood in humid air.  
“Should we retire to one of the beds?” He whispered, finding and kissing one of his ears. Wrathion shivered and shook his head.  
“No. I have a few questions for you, now that you’re here.” His gaze suddenly business-like, his walked away, leaving Kale alone. Naked in waist deep water, he had no choice but to follow Wrathion to an outcropping of sheer rocks, beaten down over the years by the pool. A natural stone bench seemed to have been carved underneath it, or had it been made by the goblins? He settled himself on the bench, to which Wrathion joined him, nuzzling up close. His hair lost its curl when wet; a solid, thick tangle. Kale kissed the top of his head, hands holding him tightly.  
“Alright, out with it. What did you want to ask me.”  
“What really happened? That was no mere attack.” Wrathion held out a hand. In it, he saw his broken form, laying at odd angles on the sand. He winced.  
“To achieve these injuries, you must have fallen from a great height.” He pointed to the crater.  
“I’m amazed you survived. What _happened_?” He stressed the last word.  
“Does it matter?”  
“Yes. It does matter.” Kale rolled his eyes, shifting his weight.  
“Like it or not, we’re partners.”  
“In more ways than one.” This elicited a smirk.  
“N’Zoth chooses key moments to attack our minds. Emotional damage, mental illness.” He turned those red eyes upon him.  
“We’re you distraught Kale? Did something happen?” There was an unasked question on those lips.  
_“Was it me?”_

  
“Wrathion it…” He untangled his arms, running them down his face. He didn’t want to tell Wrathion the whole truth, which he found greatly personal.  
“It’s very personal.” The dragon gestured around them.  
“I’d say we’ve breached many barriers today. Let’s breach another.” Kale looked down. In the shifting water, Wrathions form was disfigured, but he could still see that which he desired very, very much. He resisted the urge to take it in his hands.  
“Very well. If you insist.” He sighed, stretching his arms out along the side of the pool. The stone was cool compared to the pool; a nice contrast.  
“After you left, I fancied to give Mareder a visit. I have these…surveillance rifts I set up years ago. A few words, and you can open a lens into wherever you which.” He gave Wrathion a sad smirk.  
“I set one up in my old bedroom. You’d have liked it. Tall windows, billowing curtains.” He reached out, running a thumb down Wrathions jawline. He didn’t move. Simply stared.  
“I expected to see Alycia. Wanted to see her. Wanted to make sure she was alright. Coping well. I spent a month in nothing but her company. Explaining to her that I needed her to move on. Not to wait for me. I wasn’t coming back.” He took a breath.  
“I knew for many years she had a special male friend.” He heard Wrathion’s breath catch, and he shook his head.  
“Alycia was never unfaithful. If she was, I wouldn’t have blamed her. I was a terrible husband, Wrathion. Davis was a Planore who stood by her side when I wasn’t there. When I was there, he was a shadow. For some reason, he stayed. Love for my wife I supposed. She loved him, but always seemed to love me more.” He knitted his brows.  
“You don’t give yourself enough credit.” Wrathion murmured. A hand settled on his thigh.  
“If you had been there, young whelp, you’d understand. I was an absent husband, terrible king, and worse at being a father. Our people were at war and the one thing I could think about was a library in Pandaria. The world was collapsing around us with our emotions, and all I could think about was delving into this forgotten, lost continent.” He shuddered.  
  
“I digress. I saw Alycia in the bedroom, making love to Davis and it just…broke me.” Another sad smile.  
“I had to get out of there. I flew. I flew as high as I could, tasting ice, and that’s when N’Zoth attacked. I suppose my mind was already feeble. Easy to manipulate. He won.” He splashed at the water with a closed fist. He looked over at Wrathion, who had a very confusing expression on his face. A mixture of sadness, anger, and what was that in those eyes? Hope?

“Is it better?”  
“What do you mean?”  
“When you’re with me?” The question caught him off guard. Yes. Everything was better when he was with Wrathion. He liked holding someone in his arms. He liked the company. Liked sharing his discoveries. It helped that sex with him was so mind-blowingly good.  
“Yes. Yes, it is better.” He held him tightly, wrapping him in his arms. He felt him kiss the base of his neck.  
“I can’t help it. I desire you greatly. I need your body.” He whispered. Wrathion looked up. Those eyes were just as hungry. Without a word, he got up, out of the pool, and began walking towards the resort. Kale watched him go, watching that body walk. A steady rivulet of water fell down his spine from his hair, joining other droplets. Sand clung to his ankles. Kale felt his mouth drop open and hopped out of the water himself.  
By contrast, he had a much less graceful walk. Slightly hunched, he followed Wrathion into the resort. The walled off portion held inside it many buildings, including a multi-story hotel. The foyer was grand, with a crystal chandelier hanging from the vaulted ceiling. Couches sat, dusty and abandoned, surrounded by tables and plush chairs.   
“Odd, that they simply abandoned this place.” Kale managed, tearing his eyes from Wrathions body long enough to take in the scenery.  
“I imagine the sword strike scared them off.” He began a slow march up the stairs. Kale reached for his hand, which Wrathion pulled out of, grinning.  
“I’ve found a place. Just wait.” Kale let out a low growl, following him up the stairs, around a bend. Many, many rooms lined the walls. Another set of stairs. He was beginning to wonder if Wrathion was having him on, when he stopped. One final room.  
“I believe this is what’s known as the “honeymoon suite”? I wouldn’t know myself.” He held a hand at the lock. A click, and the door swung open.  
“A bit dusty, but surely better than that hovel you call a home.”  
“I happen to like that hovel. It’s disgusting, yes. But charming.” The room was extravagant. A massive, four post bed with velvet curtains sat in the center of the room. Surrounding it was a table and chairs, along with chest of drawers and high windows. A door opened to a bathroom, which, by the sound of the water tinkling in the shadows, had running water.  
“Though I’ll admit, this seems a bit better.”  
“Only a bit though, I assume?” Wrathion crossed the room, holding his arms up. Light flared from torches dotting the room. A candle stick flickered to life. Kale took him in, hungry. They were both still very naked, though much drier. Sand stuck to their ankles, sticking to the carpet underneath them. He crossed the room, taking Wrathion in his arms, running his lips up his neck, kissing his shoulder. He heard him groan.  
“You are so beautiful. Every inch of you.” Kale murmured. Wrathion chuckled. One hand cupped Kale’s cheek. He turned his head, kissing his palm, feeling the other hand run down his back and settle just below.  
“As are you. I cannot imagine how any mortal could pass you up.” Kale growled again, lifting Wrathion onto the bed. Climbing atop of him, he devoured him. Kissing his neck, shoulders. Nibbling at his ears. He felt Wrathion grasp him, tugging tight. He let out another growl, sitting back, watching as he worked.  
“Like what you see?” He asked of him. Wrathion nodded, a lazy grin on his face.  
“Every time I see you, I wish to get you naked. I’m discovering a pattern with myself.” He gave a particular pull, running his palm up along the tip. Kale sucked in a breath.  
“I was worried, you know.” His voice grew softer. Kale shook his head.  
“Don’t think about that now. Just…think about this. He leaned down, running his lips down dark skin, before taking him in his hands.   
“This right here is perfection.” He ran his lips from shaft to tip. Wrathion squirmed in delight, biting his lip.  
“I never noticed before. Perhaps I’d never seen actual perfection before.” He kissed him.  
“Tell the truth Kale. How many men have you seen naked?”  
“I’ve been to military camps. Pissed in alleys. I’ve seen quite a few cocks. None as beautiful as this one.” It was true. He’d mulled it over, and realized he’d never known he was interested in men, albeit only sexually, because he’d never seen one that piqued his interest. He was the same way with women. Only one woman had intrigued him. Made him feel desire. She was gone now. He forced her out of his mind as he continued to explore the body that made him writhe with desire.   
“You have to stop.” Wrathions voice came out as a plea, and Kale stopped, pulling him out of his mouth with a soft pop.  
“Oh?”  
“I don’t…want to…lose myself again.” Kale grinned, pulling him up.   
“That’s all part of the fun.” Wrathion pulled him down, hands gripping the sides of his face, kissing him. They rolled over in the bed, mouths affixed to one another. Wrathion pinned him down, grinning. Kale grinned back. How amazing it was. Fighting an ancient evil, fighting for the very sanctity of their minds, and they were rolling around naked. Enjoying one another. Wrathion took him in his hands. Glancing up at Kale, then down, he settled on top of him.  
“You sure about that?” Kale asked, feeling a delightful grip. Wrathion nodded, biting his lip as he did so.  
“I’ve given it some thought.”  
“I wonder if anyone has noticed your mind wander during meetings.” Kale teased. He took Wrathion’s hips and began thrusting upwards. He let out a moan, placing his hands on Kale’s chest. Kale grinned.  
“You don’t expect me to do all the work, do you?” Wrathion shook his head.  
“I’m afraid you’ve bested me.” He winked.  
“Again.” Kale grinned, continuing to thrust upward, watching Wrathion bounce with momentum. He moans reached a fever pitch, echoing alongside Kale’s. It was so hot. Everything was so hot. The way he rode him, fingers splayed against his chest. Kale moved his hands from his hips, taking Wrathions. He opened his eyes in surprise, gripping his hands tight.  
“I could do this every day.” Kale whispered, leaning up. Wrathion stopped his grinding, gazing at Kale, enraptured.   
“Could you? Make love to me every day?” He asked in return. One hand creeped up, stroking Kale’s cheek.  
“Oh yes.” Kale kissed him.

“You are a poison.” Wrathion truly was like one of the many drugs he’d read about. Starts you off with a beautiful high, one you can’t deny, and slowly circles you until you find yourself choking for air. Oh, this was a high. He couldn’t go without it now.   
“I suppose I should take that as a compliment.” Wrathion mused. Those fingers of his ran their way down his face, through his beard, before making their way back up and through his hair.  
“Not all poisons kill.”  
“Oh, I’m aware.”  
“Some make your heart race.”  
“Mhm.”  
Kale kissed him. It was less hungry, more an affirmation. More of his way of saying.  
“Yes, you are a poison. I need a dose of you every day. You are gorgeous, pristine, divine.” Wrathion slid off. It was then he noticed white droplets covering his belly; he hadn’t noticed him coming.  
“When did you…?” He asked. He was sad he missed him.  
“Short while ago.” He replied, sheepish.  
“I’ll admit, I’m easily excitable.” Kale pulled him close. He was still raging, sticking straight up in the air.  
“You willing to let me finish?” Kale climbed on top of him, nuzzling into his neck. Wrathion wrapped his legs around his waist, pulling him close.  
“Of course.” Kale entered him again, thrusting slowly at first, building his pace. Their kisses ranged from pecks to furious lip-locked grapples. Wrathion dug claw tips into his back, leaving bloody tracks. The sensations drove Kale wild. His thrusts reached a fever pitch, and he pulled out. Something inside him wanted to see himself against that chocolaty brown skin, and he was rewarded. Arms up above his head, eyes closed, he was the definition of perfection as Kale gazed down at him.  
“Stunning.”  
“That it was.” Wrathion seemed about to fall asleep. Kale scooped him in his arms.  
“Don’t fall asleep yet. I’ve got so much to talk to you about.”  
“You exhaust me.”  
“Oh, you kid.” Kale teased. He nibbled at his ear, before letting him nuzzle into his neck, his body curled around his. Sweat clung to their bodies, soaking their hair. Kale could, almost hear himself want to say three words. Three words he absolutely didn’t mean. He caught himself.  
  
He didn’t love him. He loved his body. He loved his companionship. He didn’t, however, love him. He knew that would hurt the boy, but he had warned him. What was there to do now?


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "A Pauper in the Prince's Court"

Wrathion flew off early in the morning. Stating something or another that Magni needed him back in the heart chamber as soon as possible, and that he’d bring a gift by later. Whatever that means. Kale slept in, using his dreams as means to traverse the void. A simple enough incantation. It didn’t allow for a restful sleep. It did, however, allow you track movements of your enemies. As long as you were stealthy. The land of shadows held many secrets. Conversations leaking through dimensions, shadows and effigies acting as puppets for the real world. N’Zoths minions haunted the pathways, causing one to veer off into the unknown.   
  
He found out, in his slumbering adventure, that N’Zoth was sending agents to Uldum and the Vale of Eternal Blossoms. This surprised him. He figured his old haunts; Twilight Highlands, and Dragonblight especially, would be key areas for him to continue his fight. Not to mention, major cities. Everywhere he went, shadows followed normal people as they went about their business, slowly and steadily corrupting their minds.

Kale found his way back to his body, noting it was nearing midday when he did so. Sun streamed into the room; a light breeze ruffling the curtains. He stretched, slid over the covers, and began his day. Having left his clothes near the shoreline, he decided to saunter around naked, as sitting in a chair and reading required little clothing to begin with. Cozying up with his tome, parchment, ink and quill, he studied for several hours, noting key locations and translating them for others. A flap of wings and a large thunk of something heavy startled him, and he dropped his quill, splattering his transcription with ink.  
“Wrathion!”  
“Did I startle you, Lord Kale? I thought you were beyond such things.” The deep chuckle came from the patio, and a draconic claw pushed in a heavy wooden box, tied down with leather straps. Kale cocked his head, eyebrows raised, as Wrathion entered fully, this time in his smaller, mortal guise. Noticing Kale was still naked, he sighed.  
“Did you not find it in you to get on clothes?” Kale spread his arms wide in answer.  
“If you recall, we left our clothing down by the water.”   
“You didn’t find the wherewithal to retrieve them?” Wrathion stooped, picking up the box with a grunt.  
“Didn’t find it necessary.” Kale smirked as Wrathion placed the heavy object on the table, mussing up Kales ‘delicate’ organization.   
“Is this the gift you promised?”  
“I don’t recall promising you anything, but yes. This is the gift I mentioned.” He pushed it towards Kale.  
“Open it.” Kale did so, leaning over his notes and undoing the straps. Inside the box was several articles of clothing, including pants, jackets, shirts, scarves and belts. Kale raised a brow.  
“Clothes?” Wrathion settled into a chair, pulling up some of Kale’s notes and beginning to read.  
“I tire of seeing you in clothing ill-fitting a homeless vagrant. It’s time you dressed the part.”  
“And what part is that?”  
“Someone who would, shall I say, have value in my theoretical court.” The Black Prince winked at him. Kale rolled his eyes.  
“I really want to smack you.” He began pulling out the clothes, examining them. They were all decorated in ways similar to Wrathion’s own clothing: Elaborate patterns, inlaid rubies. Textures similar to dragon scale.  
“Go ahead. I would love to see you try.” He began to open his mouth, ostensibly to ask a question about Kale’s notes, when Kale cut across him.  
“Did you…design these?”  
“I did.”  
“You design clothes?” Kale asked, stunned. Wrathion sighed heavily.  
“Yes. I do. Is it so hard to comprehend? Mortal tailors do not…fit my tastes. Besides, I don’t actually sew the damn things. It’s all part of the magic.” He waved his bejeweled fingers.  
“You say you don’t like ostentatiousness, but you are the very definition of it, Wrathion.” The dragon laughed.  
“I suppose so. Be that as it may…do you like them?” Kale pulled out a pair of pants and held them up to his waist. They seemed to fit well. He’d have to try them on to be sure.  
“Bit young for me, really.”  
“What’s more your age? Linen trousers that barely fit?”  
“Truly these are wonderful clothes. I do thank you.” He walked in front of a floor length mirror covering one wall and began to put them on. They slid over his legs; the fabric silk like with a secure fit as he fastened them. They luckily had no zipper; Kale wasn’t a fan.  
“They fit wonderfully!” He turned around. Wrathion had a grin on his face, gazing at Kale with a sort of rapture that left him feeling a mixture of joy and discomfort. On the one hand, his obvious joy at having him near was perfect. The other…was the odd feeling that he was falling far too close with this dragon.  
“I am glad. I guessed on the fit.” Kale crossed again to the box, pulling out a shirt with an elaborate pattern of dragon wings. The fabric was the same silken material, though the inside felt like it had been inlaid with a sturdier material; linen perhaps? He pulled it on, feeling it stretch over his shoulders. He glanced over his shoulder in the mirror. The pants really accentuated his ass. He glanced at Wrathion.  
“You did that on purpose.” Wrathion wasn’t looking.  
“I did what?” Kale rolled his eyes.   
“Never mind. I saw some belts. Where did they go?” He rummaged in the crate again, pulling out a sash. Wrapping it around his waist, he tied it in a snug knot. The outfit didn’t fit his personality at all. It was far too elaborate and flashy, but it felt good and had been made for him. He wasn’t going to complain. He turned around to Wrathion, who looked up from his perusal of Kale’s notes.  
“Well. I think I like them.” Kale noted, spreading his arms. Wrathion smiled, setting the parchment down and walking up to Kale. He studied him for a moment, straightening cloth and adjusting here and there, before stepping back.  
“You are quite dapper. Alright. I’ll allow you in my court.” He gave him a wink before sitting back down. Kale grinned. He leaned over, looking at the parchment he’d be reading.  
“Interested in my transcription?”  
“Very. Your handwriting could use some work.” Kale scoffed.  
“However. I find it fascinating, this Xal’talah. If we could find that dagger, it could turn the tide in our war.”  
“I agree. Where to find it? The last it was seen was Stormsong Valley in Kul’Tiras.” Wrathion raised a brow.  
“You know this how?” Kale rubbed his neck, sighing.  
“After my two-month long meditation, I had a lot of catching up to do. Turns out a missed a lot. I spent around a month just interrogating people. A lot of Tide Priests were cornered that day. I imagine that dagger has fallen out our sights for the moment. I can do some digging. It’ll show up.” Wrathion nodded.  
“In the meantime, I continue to work with Commander Puriaa who has so far been…trying indeed.” He ran thumb and forefinger over his brow.   
“Powerful as she is, her lack of any sort of professionalism is daunting.” Kale raised a brow.  
“What are you doing with her?”  
“Invading N’Zoths mind. Visions of the future. Have you seen them?”  
“I have seen…flashes in my meditations, yes. I try not to go too deep.”  
“It’s…painful to witness.” Wrathion swallowed.   
“I digress. There is much to do. I have been, with the Commanders help, been putting together a tome I believe you’d be interested in.” He produced a thin stack of paper.  
“It is a jumbled mess. An inane rambling of the beauty of the Old Gods.” He placed it gingerly on the table.  
“Fear and Flesh.” Kale took it eagerly, thumbing for the pages.  
“I’ll get this transcribed. Would be better to preserve the pages as they are.”  
“Yes. I plan on burning them once you do so.” Kale looked affronted.  
“Regardless of your distaste, we cannot just burn our enemy’s texts. There is knowledge here.” Wrathion tutted.  
“You’re love for the void will be your undoing, Kale.” Kale gave him a small smirk in reply.  
“The void is…a means to an end. A power that can be used. Just like a warlock uses the fel, a mage uses the arcane…I use the void.”  
“And if the void deems to destroy you?”  
“I resist it. I’ve lasted this long.” Truth was in Wrathions words. N’Zoths whispers had grown stronger in his mind. Once background noise, they were nearly audible. He struggled every day to shut them out.  
“You continue to intrigue me. Perhaps that’s where my attraction comes from.”  
“And here I thought it was innate charm and good looks.” Kale winked. They sat in silence for a time, Wrathion looking over Kales notes, and Kale reading “Fear and Flesh”. It was a fascinating grimoire. Bound in what looked like the flesh of a human, it held words within that would cause most mortals to slam the book shut in disgust and fear. Kale however, reveled in the skin-crawling message.  
 _  
“The curse of flesh! No no no! It is not a curse! It is a gift! They’re gift! To us! We are unworthy of such a gift. To become malleable, shapeable. Just as one melts iron, we too have become stronger. We can now be shaped. Crafted. In its eyes, we are reborn!”_

Kale wrote the words down. Interesting take, that with flesh, one is more malleable to change. Truth was in those words; but there was also the fact that flesh was weaker than stone, easier to corrupt. Mortality comes with dangers the author didn’t touch upon.  
  
“It seems I have been missed.” Wrathion chirped up. Kale looked up. His companion had taken some of his notes and folded them carefully, sticking them in a file which he placed in a bag near his waist.  
“I suppose we will have to catch up later.”  
“Am I needed?” Kale asked, knowing the answer. Kale was rarely needed for anything but reading. Wrathion froze.  
“You are. But not this second. I will be back.” He shook his head.  
“I have spent so long resisting voices in my head, only to be invaded by one that should be a friend. Ironic, no?” He jumped off the balcony, flying away. Kale watched him go. He hadn’t thanked him for clothes. Feeling oddly empty, he retreated back into his room, finishing his transcription Wrathion’s tome, before taking the current pages of the “Fear and Flesh” and tucking them away in a chest he’d found in the room.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ever shared dinner with someone you love? Probably. Ever hunt that dinner, gut it and cook it with someone you love? Probably not.

Kale was bored. He attempted to study but found himself unable to focus. He wanted action. He wanted a purpose, and overall, disappointing though it was, he wanted Wrathion. This emotion angered him. He spent some time dragging furniture around his drake form, using his shadowflame to meld metal into hunks and club them as far as he could into the pools. It was nearly night before Wrathion returned, his dark form invisible except for his eyes.  
“I see you have found yet another way to amuse yourself.”  
“You know, you don’t have to visit me.” Kale snapped, launching yet another hunk of molten furniture across the way. It landed with a splash in the center of the spring.  
“There are better things to do.” Wrathion looked affronted. He landed on the beach, looking at Kale, who lined up another shot.  
“Wasting time on this. N’Zoth could be dead by now, but no. You waste your time.”  
“I waste _my_ time, is it?” Wrathion’s voice was a deadly whisper. Kale glanced at him.  
“What about your time Kale? How much time have you wasted?” Kale rolled out another ball.  
“I have done all I can. Now it’s up to you all, who seem cozy in your little heart chamber, away from the corruption and the blood and the gore.” He gnashed his teeth. He was lashing out, yes, but he didn’t care. He was being ostracized.   
“You think I like feeling this way?” The words came as a shock. Kale stared. Wrathion’s face was screwed up in anger, teeth bared. Kale was suddenly reminded of just how powerful Wrathion was.  
“You think I like wasting time on you, of all people? That I chose to have these…disgusting feelings for someone so vulgar, so inane, as you? You are frivolous, revolting. You can barely dress yourself. You have no station. You forfeited any and all right to your people. You sit in the dark, doing nothing all day, burying yourself in tomes that you think will help our effort against an Old God?” Wrathion spat. His eyes were a molten flame. Kale shrunk back.   
“I have not chosen this. I have…” He hissed the words, anger clear in his tone.  
“spent many a night lying awake in confusion as to why I could ever be attracted to you. To want to spend time with you. When there is so much more at stake. I haven’t chosen this. I cannot help it, any more than you can help being a lazy, revolting shell of a man.”  
“You listen-.” Kale began, feeling the prickle of anger begin under his skin. Wrathion leapt. He bowled into him, pinning him to the ground.  
“You nearly killed me all those years ago, but hear me now. I can rip out your throat and eat your corpse, as easily as I would a dog.” His words were a deadly whisper. Kale found himself very, very small.  
“And yet. I can’t.” He pulled back, transforming in the blink of an eye.  
“These feelings confuse and beguile me.” He held up a hand, one finger pointing at Kale, who followed it, wary.  
“I care so deeply for you. I need to spend time with you. Any moment I’m away from you aches. I have had feelings for mortals before, but nothing like this.” He threw a ball of flame at Kale, who ducked. It seared his scales before glancing off.  
“Is this what love is? If it is, I DIDN’T ASK FOR IT!” Wrathion roared in fury, tossing another ball of flame at Kale. He took it, full in the face. His drake form resisted most forms of fire. Wrathion’s fireballs were just another test. Though physically he didn’t feel pain, his heart was burning in agony. He hung his head.  
“I’m sorry-.”  
“Don’t you apologize! Don’t you apologize for something you haven’t done!” His chest heaved. He lowered his arms.  
“You have nothing to apologize for. You have warned me, time and again, of your commitments, of your struggles. Of why you fight.” He gnashed his teeth.  
“I ignored it. I’m beginning to regret that.” Kale took on his human form. Though his cheeks burned, he felt the previous anger melt away, replaced by an acute form of despair. He didn’t want him feeling this way. Oh, he cared about this man, this dragon.  
“I hate that my feelings are one sided. And yet, I continue to torture myself with this blank hope that you will ever love me back.” Kale started to walk towards Wrathion, who, upon closer inspection, had the makings of tears in his eyes.  
“What do you mean to do? Hold me? Tell me it will all be ok? Or do you plan to agree with my words?” Wrathion took a step back as Kale stood in front of him, but Kale, acting quick, pulled him by the forearms, holding them tight.  
“I _am_ sorry. I never expected to have feelings for you, either. Life works in fickle ways. But there is one thing I’ve noticed in spending time with you.” Wrathion gazed at him, eyes narrowed in anger and hurt.  
“It’s that I treasure every moment we’re together.” He ran his hands up his arms, squeezing. Wrathions eyes widened in surprise.  
“I can feel myself falling for you. I hate it, but it’s the truth. You put up with me. Not many do that.” He managed a sheepish grin.  
“I…don’t want you feeling that way. Especially not now.”  
“I agree. Another reason I hate these… feelings.”  
  
“I feel useless. I’m unable to join you all and that…erupted in words I didn’t mean.”  
“Oh you meant them Kale. But I appreciate the semi-apology.” Wrathion hugged him tight.  
“I will find a way to guard the chamber from your…presence.”  
“You’ve already forgiven me?” Kale asked, pulled away. All traces of tears were gone. Wrathion was back to business.  
“Forgiven you for what? If anything, I am over the moon with joy at your words. It’s neither here nor there.” He pulled away. Kale gazed at him for a moment, before being swept into a kiss. He kissed him back hungrily, drinking him in. He wanted to take away his pain.  
“Enough of this. We have work to do.” Kale sputtered as Wrathion pulled away and began a quick walk up the beach.  
“We do?”  
“Did you finish the transcription?”  
“Some time ago.” Kale felt he was being bossed around.  
“Good. That leaves us with time to work out the present conundrum.” He turned, walking backwards towards the resort, eyes on Kale.  
“You want to guard the chamber from me, yes?” Kale caught up to him, matching his gait.  
“Yes. I believe it can be done. It will require a scale of yours.” He eyed him. Kale matched his gaze.  
“You mean to ward the chamber from me, effectively making any influence I have null?”  
“Exactly what I intend to do.” Kale smiled.   
“You’ll need part of me in each form, then.” Wrathion seemed to think for a moment, before concurring.  
“I hadn’t thought of that.”  
“Planore have their essence split between each of their forms.”  
“Whereas a dragon is simply that.” He stroked his chin.  
“Planore really are interesting creatures. You have so far eluded all my attempts to get you to tell me of their history.” He gave him a sidelong glance.  
“I will have to needle that out of you some time or another.” Kale shrugged, sheepish.  
“I have several books about the subject I can get for you.”  
“It simply isn’t the same.”  
  
  
After some discussion, a bit of flying, and a very awkward encounter in front of the watching eyes of the Earthern Ring and Cenarion Circle, Wrathion descended the slope to the Heart Chamber with three pieces of Kale: Scale, Fur, and Hair. It was odd, plucking pieces of his essence. He supposed any piece of him could do; but really. Anything else would be absurd.   
  
The ritual was simple. Wrathion to create a ward against Kale’s corruption for the chamber. Using pieces of his essence the chamber would slowly build up a tolerance for him. A sort of sanitation protocol. As such, Kale couldn’t spend much time in the chamber. It was enough for short meetings and giving orders. It would be good to feel in the thick of things, rather than waiting for Wrathion to catch him up. He flew away, his mind on other things. Nefarian had likened his mind to that of a bustling bee. Always flitting to something else. Never able to settle on one thing.   
  
Making his way back to the resort, he settled into bed. Upon waking, into note taking, transcriptions and studying. The exact location of Xal’atath was his next move. He also spent some time notating exactly where N’Zoth had struck in the past. Dragonblight, surrounding Wyrmrest Temple. Twilight Highlands, Mount Hyjal. All three locations could be under enormous threat; a key area to survey and protect. As it was, the Old God seemed to be sieging Uldum and The Vale of Eternal Blossoms. Both locations were of historical significance.   
“Ulduar, Ahn’Qiraj…do you hold no interest in the jails of your brethern, N’Zoth?” Kale whispered, looking over maps.  
“Forge of Creation. Seize that and you have an endless army. Not to mention the slumbering titanic watchers of Ahn’Qiraj.”   
  
  
“Talking to yourself again? Oh, how desperate you must be for company!” Kale managed not to smile.  
“Finish the ritual?” Kale asked as Wrathion stepped into the room. The younger dragon grinned.  
“I have! The chamber is now warded against your taint. Not that I’d have you any other way.” He sat down on the opposite side of Kale, pulling his notes close.  
“I see you’ve been busy.”  
“I have. There are some spots that need surveying.” Wrathion raised a brow at his scribbles within the margins of a map.  
“I have agents in these locations. I can get us a report quickly enough.” Kale shook his head.  
“I’m sure they are very talented, but I have specific things I must do. They cannot see as I do.”   
“Fair enough. You plan on going alone?” He gave Kale a pointed look.   
“You are needed here, Wrathion.”  
“Yes, yes. Of course I am needed here.” He leaned back in his chair, the two front legs lifting off the ground.  
“Aggravating, isn’t it? Being forced to stay behind as your _friend_ goes gallivanting off to who knows where.” He glanced at Kale, who couldn’t help but smile.  
“They can spend some time without me. This visions in N’Zoths mind…” He paused, and Kale took the moment to jump in.  
“Have you been taking notes on what you see?” Wrathion cocked his head.  
“I remember most. Would you like an account?” Kale nodded fervently.  
“Very much so.” His stomach chose that moment to give a particularly loud growl. Wrathion let out a laugh.  
“Do you ever take the time for your needs?”  
“When it gets to a point, yes. I hadn’t realized I haven’t eaten.” He thought back. When had he last eaten?  
“What do you eat, anyways?” Wrathion stood up, crossing to the balcony. A breeze rustled his hair, and Kale found himself staring.  
“Pretty much anything. I prefer meat to other foods.” Stroking his chin, the young dragon turned to him.  
“Why? I have rations back at the hut.” Wrathion waved that away. Kale sighed.  
“What do you eat, as a dragon, anyways? Ever eaten a mortal?” He looked aghast at Kale’s words.  
“Never!” Kale gave a disappointed frown.  
“Too bad. Would like to know what we taste like.”  
“Oh, I’ve tasted a mortal, if that’s what you ask.” Kale grinned at that, standing up himself.  
“I meant in more…sustaining factors.” He wiped the ink off his hands.  
“I believe I will treat you to dinner, Wrathion.” He raised a brow.  
“And do you suppose you will do that?”  
“Not tonight, perhaps tomorrow.” He crossed the room and stood before him.  
“What do you like to eat?”  
“I…anything, I suppose.” The question caught Wrathion off guard. He gazed at Kale as he lifted one leg on the balcony railing, preparing to fly.  
“Where are you going?”  
“Hunting, little Prince. As you said, I’m hungry.” He gestured north of them.  
“Feralas is ripe with wildlife.” Wrathion wrinkled his nose in some disgust. Kale laughed.  
“Never had to hunt your own food?”  
“I must admit, the act does not sound appealing. I suppose one could always learn something new.” He leapt forward, and in a flap of wings hovered in the air. Kale followed.  
  
“Fly as quiet as you can. I’m thinking Wendigo.” Wrathion held back, his expression that of confusion mixed with revulsion. As a young man, Kale had to hunt for most of his food. The Burning Steppes was ripe with wildlife, albeit the unsettling kind. He grew used to Worg and Scorpid.   
  
It didn’t take him long to find a Wendigo camp. They roared as they saw him, running away when he flashed his talons. Swooping low, he grabbed one in his claws, snapping its neck and dragging it up, away from its fellows.  
“A clean kill. Now for the disgusting act of gutting and cutting it up.” Wrathion remarked as he flew away with his catch. Kale gave him a look.  
“No? I eat it raw.”  
“A mortal? Eating his food raw?” He looked utterly baffled.  
“I don’t even eat raw meat!”  
“Are you sure you’re a dragon? Oh right.” Kale took a right, avoiding a tree.  
“You’re a Prince. They tend to be pampered.” Wrathion snorted. He tore a giant pink flower off a vine and held it in his claws.  
“No, more like I’m refined. I’ve moved past our proto-dragon ways.” Kale let out a hearty chuckle. They had entered a field of flowers. Sun shone down, breaking the canopy.  
“Alright. If you start a fire, I will cut it up and cook it for you.” He shooed Wrathion away with his tail.   
“Go. Start the fire back at the resort. I will gather some tubers to cook with the meat.” Wrathion didn’t move. He cocked his head, waiting. Kale sighed.  
“Would you please go start a fire back at the resort? I will gather some tubers to cook with the meat.” The Black Prince nodded, gave him a grin, and flew off. Annoying whelp.  
  
Kale gathered wildflowers, tubers, and grains. He’d learned a lot about Azeroth’s wild fauna in his studies: What can be cooked, what would kill you. He dumped them on the ground in front of Wrathion, who gave him a look of utter indignation as he watched a sizeable bonfire roar before him. He held the pink flower in his hands  
“I can’t start good cooking fires. I tend to breathe purple.” Kale fluttered down, transforming with a flash.  
“I imagine the void doesn’t taste good.” Bending down, he examined the bounty Kale had brought.  
“I don’t recognize anything you brought.” He held up a white carrot like vegetable.  
“Parsnip. Well, you are a black dragon. Not a red one. I wouldn’t expect you too.” Kale took out a knife and began cutting up his kill.  
“Must you do that here? You’re staining the sand.” Wrathions face was screwed up in disgust.  
“There is nowhere else to do it, whelp. Would you like to learn how to carve a kill?” Wrathion paused for a moment, before sighing, stopping quite some distance from Kale and his wendigo. He watched in silent revulsion as Kale carved cuts of meat from the carcass, depositing entrails in a pile he planned to burn.  
“It’s much easier to just eat it raw.” Kale remarked. He’d grabbed a large crate from the empty resort and piled the guts inside, which he tossed on the fire.  
“No need to worry about all this offal.”  
“I admit, you seem…efficient.” Wrathion didn’t seem disgusted by the gore, merely the act of getting one’s hands bloody.  
“You sentenced your brothers and sisters to death and have killed numerous people, but cutting up your own kill is too much for you?” Kale speared the cuts on a metal pole. Wrathion shrugged.  
“That is different.”  
“It’s still bloodying your hands, Wrathion. Perhaps some digging in the dirt will ground you a bit.” He scoffed.   
“I’m a dragon. I need no grounding. I was born to fly.” Despite these words, he helped Kale set up the spit.   
“Where did you learn to cook like this?”  
“Traveled a lot. Nefarian was a lot like you. Didn’t do much himself. Always had servants. I’ve never liked relying on people, so I learned on my own.” Kale grunted as he pushed a parsnip on the spit.  
“It’s a good skill to have, Wrathion.”  
“Hence why I’m watching.” Kale smiled. He took a cut of meat and tore a chunk off, swallowing it whole. Wrathion rolled his eyes, jumping into the air and flying to the balcony. He disappeared inside the room for a time, emerging with a crate full of parchment and books. He sat outside, reading while the food cooked and Kale turned the spit. He gazed at Wrathion, admiring his beauty. He was…frustrating to deal with, but he found himself needing to be beside him more and more. There recent spat and made him realize how much he didn’t want to see him hurt. It was a…confusing feeling.

It was lucky he had made this resort his makeshift home. It had everything he needed, including plate and silverware. Balancing two plates in his hands, he made his way up, depositing one in front of Wrathion, who tore his eyes away from Kale’s writings to look.  
“You didn’t need to serve me.”  
“Take it as an apology for earlier.” He tucked into his food, savoring the meat, which had turned out perfect. Wrathion was much more wary of his meal. He poked at it with a fork, before trying it himself. Realizing it was, in fact, edible, he ate with much more enthusiasm. Kale rolled his eyes.  
“What have you found in my notes?”  
“I have learned that you know some things even I don’t know.”  
“Such as?”  
“Your connection with the void is astounding. To have found a way to harness it without giving into madness is simply incredible. Not to mention, your insights into N’Zoths current plan of attack.” He flipped a page.  
“Ulduar would be a worthy target to seize.”  
“He seems much more interested in the Forge of Origination.” Wrathion gave him a glance.  
“As it’s the only tool that will allow us to destroy him, I think he sees it as a legitimate threat.” He held out a palm. In it, a single red flame with images dancing among it.  
“I’ve taken the liberty of contacting my agents in Twilight Highlands and Dragonblight. No unusual activity.”  
“The forgotten ones? Have they come out of dormancy?” Wrathion shook his head, spearing a parsnip with a knife.  
“I’d wager they may be dead, all things considered. Alexstrasza burned them to husks.” He sighed.  
“My kin, including those of other flights, are near extinction. I doubt N’Zoth cares much about us.” He glared at a wild onion that remained on his plate.  
“We have missed our opportunity of protectors of the lesser races. Of Azeroth.”  
“Which you are making up for now, Wrathion. It’s more than they are doing, at any rate.” Kale set his plate aside.   
“I haven’t made any progress on how Aszhara procured Xal’atath. I was hoping you could enlighten me” Kale was curious. Though learning how the Naga Queen had obtained it wouldn’t help their cause, it would close the gap in his knowledge. Wrathion shook his head. His hair rustled in the breeze, obscuring his face. Kale scooted closer.  
“I’ve managed to weed some information out of a few informants. Not much.” He flashed a smirk.   
“A Horde informant who was close to Lady Sylvanas states that the banshee had given it to Aszhara. Some sort of bargain.” He shrugged.  
“I am not going to touch anything that woman does. She disgusts me.” Kale raised his brows, leaning back in his chair.  
“I would have thought you’d appreciate her. She has a way with getting things done.” Wrathion shook his head.  
“She doesn’t get things done. Her methods are nothing but needless slaughter with no payoff. Casualties may be necessary, but if there is no method to the madness, it is a waste. Teldrassil was a waste. The Horde is nothing but a grand mess.”  
“Is that why you didn’t visit?” Wrathion gave him a look.  
“Partly. I don’t find them useful in their present state.” Kale sighed.  
“The Alliance is hardly better. The Horde is more unified than ever, and the Alliance has split in two.”  
“I heard about that.” Kale didn’t know much more than what Nyota had told him. He didn’t feel like speaking of it. He changed the subject.  
“So our next move is to find Aszhara.” Wrathion closed his eyes, rubbing them with his palms.  
“Yes, who has disappeared, or so it seems. If the forge falls, that dagger is the only thing stopping N’Zoth. I imagine she’s in Nya’lotha.” Kale gave him a surprised look. Of course. That makes perfect sense.  
“Of course! N’Zoth ripped her away after her defeat.” Wrathion looked at him, eyebrows raised.  
“You witnessed it?” Kale grinned.  
“I was attempting to bargain with her when the Horde and Alliance broke through. I was forced to guard my presence and watch as they broke her. It was entertaining, to say the least. To see her prone on the ground, coughing up blood and water. How the Queen has fallen.”  
  
“So it comes to Nya’lotha. Once we locate that, we can act on our plan.” Kale didn’t respond. He knew that once they located a way to Nya’lotha, his days would be numbered. He planned on acting as soon as he could against N’Zoth. It would mean his death. Busy ruminating, he didn’t realize Wrathion had set the pink flower behind his ear until the Prince drew away. He saw his smirk, felt the soft weight of the blossom, and grinned.

  
Kale reached out a hand, which Wrathion grasped. The sun was beginning to set.   
“I know a place, not far from here, where the sunset is dazzling. Fly with me?” Wrathion nodded. The two of them soared, following the rim of the mountains, up to a rather flat peak that faced due west. The sun sank lower and lower against the horizon, as it erupted in color. Brilliant golds and magentas set fire to the sky.  
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Wrathion murmured, hooking his tail around Kales. He nuzzled the younger drake.  
“Very much. The sunset is something I always made time for.” Silence. Wrathion leaned into him, pressing the top of his muzzle against Kales lower jaw. He was a comforting presence, one he could rely on. The sun slipped lower over the horizon, finally disappearing, and Kale found himself hand in hand with Wrathion, their drake forms forgotten, curled against each other on this flat topped peak. He held him in his arms, pushing his hair back, exposing those perfect ears. Kissing them, running his lips down his jawline. Wrathion had his eyes closed, head cocked.  
  
“Let’s retire early. I find myself exhausted.” Wrathion sat up straight.  
“Tired already? After that short of a flight?” He smirked; his features dim in the moons light. Kale smiled.   
“I am growing older. Perhaps you could finally best me.” He stood up, stepped off the peak, and flew off. Wing beats from behind alerted him to Wrathion on his tail, and he continued, flying in the darkness, watching the Azerite mist flow from the ground to his left, and the dark veridian gloom of Feralas to his right. He really was tired. He was looking forward to a good sleep, complete with a beautiful bed mate by his side. He flew lower, descending into the hotel with a swoop of his wings and quick transformation. He was about to crawl into bed, clothes on, when Wrathion stopped him. Grabbing him by the wrist, he pulled him close.  
“Wrathion, what is it? I just want to sleep.” Kale begged. He was exhausted. Pain erupted from his joints.  
“I made you some bed clothes. In the crate.” Kale looked at him curiously. Wrathion smiled, raising his hands and shifting the clothes he wore to silken robes.  
“I normally sleep naked.”  
“Well, count this as a tick on your new experience list.” He watched him crawl into bed. Rolling his eyes, he peeled off his clothes, setting them gently on the back of a chair. Digging through the crate, he found robes identical to those Wrathion wore. He smirked as he pulled them on. He fell into bed shortly after, feeling arms wrap themselves around his torso. It had been far too long since he’d had a proper bedmate. Wrapped in warm arms, he quickly fell asleep.  
  
  



	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An urgent message requires an urgent response.

He awoke several hours later to an incessant ringing inside his skull. It took him a few moments to figure out what it was, and upon doing so, leapt out of bed. Digging in his rucksack, he found a dragonscale he used to communicate with informants throughout the world.  
  
Taken from Nefarian’s shed hide, Kale had it enchanted. He gave similar ones to people close to him; those that had gained his trust throughout the years as people with immense knowledge and a keen understanding of the universe. Upon touching the scale, the ringing stopped. Words filled his head. They took on the form of a gnome, with spiked hair and full beard.   
  
“Kale! I’ve heard you have done great things. I understand it’s been many, many years since we last spoke, but I had to tell you what has come up.”  
  
The gnome spoke in length about Mechagon and the return of the Mechanognomes to the Alliance. Despite it being keen information, that Kale appreciated, he grew inpatient. What had the gnome contacted him for? Surely not this.  
  
“Oh, I do apologize. I went off on a tangent, didn’t I? I meant to tell you about Zeke Firebrand! I seem to remember him being important to you? Or was that the Archmage…” He carried on. This was the information he had meant to relay. The Alliance Rebellion was slaughtering Horde. At their head, Tyrande Whisperwind, King Genn Greymane and Zeke Firebrand. Kale found himself gripping the dragonscale in anger.   
  
“I know this information is gristly. I don’t even know if you still have the scale you told me is a partner to this one! But I just had to tell you Kale, I just had too! I know how much the Alliance means to you. The world is once again in shambles.”   
  
The gnome took on a sad tone. He bid him farewell, and the voice ceased. Kale held the scale for a moment longer, before tucking it back into the bag. His thoughts were a swirling mess of anger and sadness, mixed with a fair amount of irritation. Now was not the time for fighting. Of either side! Couldn’t they see the much bigger threat? He saw movement in his periphery and turned. Wrathion sat up, his hair a mussed-up mess, gazing at Kale with blazing red eyes.  
“Awake so early?”  
“Received a message. A message I must act upon.” He crossed to the bed, leaning down to kiss him. Wrathion took his hand, holding it tight.  
“Enlighten me.” Kale shook his head as he ran his lips up his cheek, pushing hair back and kissing his ear.  
“I need to act now. Perhaps later. If I’m in any mood.” Wrathion sighed, pushing him away.  
“Goodbye then.”  
“Goodbye, Black Whelpling. Don’t get hurt while I’m away.” Scowling, Wrathion pulled the covers up to his shoulders.  
“I would be quite disheartened.” Kale took off out the window, letting out a roar as he soared higher and higher. He’d have to fly there. Shadow travel was too dangerous of late. He flew for a solid hour, over the canopy of the Feralas, until he was well in the clear of Wrathion coming with him. He had no wish to confront the three of them with a dragon at his side, knowing full well Wrathion could easily kill them if he wished.   
  
He settled on a hillock covered in emerald green moss. Flowers blossomed on the sunny side, giving off a sweet fragrance as he transformed. Again, he was reminded that he desperately needed the aspects boon again. His body was steadily breaking apart, the joints seizing up, flaring in pain as he started his abstract incantations. He ignored the pain, calling to the void to give him Zeke Firebrands location. He would be the easiest to track.  
  
Young and hotheaded, Zeke Firebrand was the Alliance’s newest call to glory. He was also one of the only Planore mages, and extremely skilled at that. He had introduced Zeke to Khadgar, many years ago in Dreanor. Then, the two had butted heads, with Zeke finally leaving his side and coming to rest at Jaina’s. Her cold heart and his fiery temper seemed to match, that is, until the Legion invaded. Kale fell out of contact with everyone at that point, being locked in a Legion cell and torn apart. During his short time catching up on news, it seems Zeke had grown a fondness for darker magic. Sylvanas’s actions at Teldrassil warranted a certain amount of fury, but slaughtering Orcs as they took down war camps was something Kale couldn’t condone.  
  
He was off to stop this madness. Or at least try. He grasped at souls, feeling them out, before letting them go, his mind one with the void. Finally, he found the one he was looking for. Fiery hot, almost burning to the touch. It seemed he was located on the border of Felwood and Darkshore. Kale licked his lips, allowing the void to exit his mind akin to letting air out of a balloon. He took off, steeling himself for a long flight. He flew for several hours more, using the thermals above the barrens to keep from tiring. On foot, a journey of this magnitude would take days, if not weeks. Flying it took merely a day. He rested on a mountaintop overnight, tracked Zeke again, and carried on. He hadn’t moved. He was growing close. He found him in the early morning hours, surrounded by mist. In the mage’s direct vicinity, he had burned up the all the excess moisture. Lazily tracing patterns into the air, he was the epitome of self-assuredness and arrogance. Kale swooped low, his fury blazing, and prepared to pluck him from the mountain top. At the last second, Zeke noticed him. With a shout, he blinked backward, falling off the mountain top. Kale swooped by, his talons hitting bare air.  
“Kale Zaxon! What a pleasure it is to see you again! You’re looking quite fit!” He heard the mages voice call. The smugness of it enraged him further. He flew in an arc, banking down. Zeke had fallen on an overhang.  
“You are interrupting my work, though. Now isn’t a good time to play catch up.”  
“Your arrogance is astounding, Zeke.”  
“Oh? What of your own arrogance?” Zeke twirled a ball of flame in his fingers. Kale swished his tail.  
“My arrogance? I’ve come to stop you from splitting the Alliance apart.” He gnashed his teeth, raking his claws on the ground.  
“I’m afraid that’s already happened. But you’re willing to try and stop our work here.” Zeke assumed an offensive stance, beginning to channel an attack. Kale flew forward, buffeting him with a gust of air. Zeke stumbled backwards, his robes billowing.  
“I’m a black drake, Zeke. Fire is merely an annoyance.” Kale called. Again, he swooped. This time, Zeke was ready. Tentacles of fire emerged from the ground, affixing them to his wings. He struggled against the fiery grip. He was forced to transform, hitting the ground with a heavy thud.  
“I’ve learned a lot in your absence from the world. Have you? Have you seen what’s become of the Alliance while you meditated in Lordearon? Did you even care?”  
“There are BIGGER things! There is an Old God on-.”  
“N’Zoth is NOTHING!” Zeke bellowed. Kale heard enough. He charged forward, hooves thundering on the ground. He slammed into Zeke, who at the last moment transformed himself. His collision did nothing; Zeke was a wall compared to him.  
“You have grown weak in your old age, Kale. Or is it merely your illness?” His voice teased him, goaded him into fury.  
“I can best you in any form. You are nothing compared to me!” Kale heard enough. Shoulder blades aching from the previous attack, he wrenched his hands forward.  
“I was trying to play fair.” Tentacles of pure violet energy erupted from the ground. They slammed into Zeke, wrapping themselves around his body. He screamed in pain and fury as spikes drove themselves deep into his flesh.  
“No one has mastered the shadows as I have, Zeke. Do you claim to best me? Best this.” He had them grip him further.  
“Listen to me! This is fool-hardy! N’Zoth is the real threat. Ignore your petty squabbles and-.” Pain flared. He sank to his knees, feeling it spread from his shoulder down his back. Looking around, he saw a silver fletched arrow buried in his shoulder.  
“Petty, Kale Zaxon? I thought better of you. Though, I only met you the once.” The voice was a deadly calm. He managed to turn his head. His concentration on the spell slipped, and the tentacles faded away. Padded footfalls reached him, and a gruff hand picked him up.  
“On your feet, Zaxon.”  
“I thought better of you, Greymane.”  
“And I thought better of you, Zaxon.”  
“You think us petty? You think our rebellion unmerited? I don’t recall your home burned down. Your people left to so few. Would you say the same if Mareder had been the one under attack? If your people had burned?” Tyrande leapt down from her perch, twirling an arrow in her fingers.   
  
She was right. They had only met once. Then, she had been a beautiful, regal woman. With waist length hair and silver eyes, she had exuded wisdom and patience. Now she was a shell of that woman. With braided hair and eyes the color of night, her lips twisted into an inhuman snarl.  
“I will give you one chance. Leave. Fight your own fight. King Anduin has made his choice, and it wasn’t to stand with his allies.” She knocked her bow. Kale scowled up at her, glanced at Greymane, and finally at Zeke. The latter was nursing several wounds, blood oozing down his arms and torso. He snarled at Kale, his hands ablaze. Kale knew he was beat. He snarled.  
“Fine.” N’Zoth would feed on their hate, turn them against each other. They would see the truth soon enough. By then, it will be too late to turn back. Kale wove a curtain of shadow around himself and disappeared. He heard them speak as he shifted into the shadows.  
“Why Tyrande? Why let him get away?!” Zeke’s voice was thunderous.  
“No reason to kill him.” He heard Genn grumble.  
“He will alert the Horde of our presence!” Zeke snapped, striding forward to where Kale lay hidden. Comfortably out of reach. The arrow in his shoulder burned; it had been blessed. The holy magic steadily poisoned his fel tained form. He had to retreat.  
“Kale would never do such a thing. He has no love lost for the Horde. I suppose he was merely upset at the fact we are technically traitors.” Genn remarked, walking away. With those words, Kale faded, stepping into the void fully, and out of sight. Without wings to fly, he had to risk the shadows. It would be quicker, at the very least.

A few minutes later, he arrived, coughing, at Magni’s Encampment. It stretched before him, a massive sea of tents and marquees. He stumbled down the line, gripping his shoulder. The arrow was embedded deep. To rip it out would sever key muscles, necessary for flying. He grimaced, hobbling down to the main square of the camp. There, he leaned against a pillar. The healers were busy. He would have to wait.  
“You alright, mon?” A troll shaman, the same who had healed him days prior, loped up to him. His eyes widened when he noticed the arrow sticking out of his shoulder.  
“Ah! No you not! You’ve been shot mon!”  
“That I have. Think you could heal me?”  
“Of course I can! C’mere! Lemme get a betta look at ya!” Kale walked closer and sat down. The troll worked with fingers far too deft for his kind.  
“It’s really deep in ya shoulder, mon.”  
“Can you dig it out?”  
“It gonna hurt. I can make it hurt less for ya, but, no promises.” He troll invoked rain, and it fell on his shoulder, soothing the burn.  
“So ya can’t use druidic healin’?” The troll asked. Kale shook his head.  
“Holy magic hurts me, and druid’s healing doesn’t take. Only healers I can go to are shamans. What is your name?” The troll let out a laugh.  
“Oh ya! I forgot. My name Hen’riki. It’s a pleasure to meet ya.” Kale felt the arrow loosen.  
“It’s gonna come out now. Just lettin’ ya know. Gonna sting!” With a wrench, the arrow was pulled free. Kale’s shoulder stung, and he bit his lip against the pain. Instantly, the water seeped into his wound, binding the muscle and stitching up flesh.  
“The power of wata! You gotta love it, mon!” He walked around Kale, facing him.  
“Still, don’t be usin’ that arm to fly or anythin’. Gotta let it rest. Healin’ isn’t instantaneous!” Kale grinned. He formed a makeshift sling with his bag, resting his arm on the flap.  
“I thank you, Hen’riki. Now I suppose I wait for a ride back.” The troll eyed him.  
“Can’t ya use the void? I’ve seen ya use it before.” Kale shook his head.  
“I have to use it sparingly. With N’Zoth being back…” He gave the Troll a knowing smile. He nodded vigorously.  
“Alright mon! Cozy up! Don’t be getting shot now!” He let out an uproarious laugh and loped away, leaving Kale to ruminate on the day.   
  
He had been bested. Again. He really was growing older. Who was he to think he could change the minds of those that had already been made up? The Horde was, to the rebellion, the ultimate enemy. Nothing would change. Even as N’Zoth rose up before them, they would run past, determined to see orcs annihilated for crimes they had already paid for. It reminded him of the previous war. Garrosh had bombed Theremore. Destroyed the Vale. He was to stand trial and had escaped. It was happening again, only somehow, this was worse. The Alliance was well and truly done with treaties and peace talks. Could he really blame them for taking matters into their own hands? For believing that there was no place for peace when people who set fire to innocent civilians walked the planet? He gritted his teeth, feeling the dull ache in his shoulder magnify with the pains of his body.  
  
It was then he remembered he could enter the chamber. If only a little while. Bracing himself, he stepped down to the portal. Instantly, he was teleported to a dark room. Lined with Titan Architecture, he followed the hallway to an open expanse. Filled with glittering lights and panels, several people stood around a central panel. All were bickering except one, who wasn’t paying attention. Kale approached, feeling a prickling sensation across his skin. That would be the sanitization protocols Wrathion had installed. One that became painful, it would be time to go.  
  
Wrathion looked over, smiled for a moment, before nodding and turning back to the meeting. Kale leaned against a wall, adjusting his arm, and watched. The room was covered in dragons. Two aspects, and three lesser dragons. Magni was there, looking out of place, along with a Titanic Watcher, MOTHER. Kale would need to speak with her on a later date. Alexstrasza, the Dragon Queen. The Black Prince, of course. Merithra, Daughter of Ysera, along with Chronormu and Ebyssian all flanked one another. Kalecgos stood off to one side, looking wary.   
  
It was then Wrathion noticed Kale’s arm in a sling. Eyes widening some, he excused himself.  
“I must confer with our shadowy ally. Carry on.” They paid no heed to him, which irritated Kale as the younger dragon, and aspect himself, approached.  
“You hurt yourself.”  
“I did not hurt myself. Someone hurt me.” He managed a small smile, though found actual mirth impossible, under the circumstances. Wrathion nodded to the exit, and Kale followed him.  
“I was hoping for a ride back. I do not want to risk the shadows and cannot fly until this is fully healed.”  
“You wish to ride me?” Wrathion asked, stunned. Kale rolled his eyes.  
“I do not WISH too. I’m forced too. I’d rather not spend another day in the camp. Far too noisy.” Wrathion considered him, before sighing heavily.  
“Fine. I suppose you deserve it.” He stepped on the teleporter pad, as did Kale, and two were whisked into the encampment. In the light of the setting sun, Wrathion could finally get a good look at him.  
“You were shot.” He turned Kale around. Kale stumbled and snarled as hands examined him.  
“By a blessed arrow. Were you shot by Tyrande Whisperwind herself?”  
“Your talent for inference continues to annoy and frighten me, whelp. Yes, I was.” Grumbling, he stepped back.  
“I’m healed, but shouldn’t fly until tomorrow. I’d rather not strain the muscles.”   
“You do realize it’s not simple matter to ride the Black Prince.”  
“Enough with your ego, Wrathion. I can walk there, if I must. You said yourself you’d prefer me not to use my pathways.” The dragon grinned.  
“Come on then. Away from the camp. Everyone else will demand a ride if I give you one in plain sight.” Rolling his eyes, Kale followed the young man out of the camp. Truth be told, riding another dragon, besides Nefarian, was insulting to him. At least Wrathion was someone he was legitimately close too.  
“Know this wounds me far more than it should wound you.” He climbed atop the drake, who smiled.  
“Duck low. I plan to go fast. Then you can tell me exactly what happened, so I can needle you far into the night.” He took off, shooting into the sky. Kale did indeed duck low, feeling a gust of wind surge over him. It was upsetting, not being able to fly himself. How many times had Wrathion carried him now? This would be the third. It was growing tiresome.  
“This is the third time I’ve carried you. You’re making it a habit, aren’t you?” He heard the young dragon chuckle. Kale gripped Wrathions scales in response.  
“Don’t rip those off. I need them. Just relax, Kale.” Being near him was soothing. His grimace faded, and he watched with glazed eyes as the scenery passed. His mind was on other things. They finally arrived back his hotel, and Wrathion landed. Kale hopped off immediately. Wrathion turned on his back feet, transforming from drake to human so fast it left Kale dizzy.  
“Out with it.” He demanded. He ripped off Kale’s shirt, exposing the wounded arm.  
“Tyrande shot you? What have you done? What was that message? It’s been two days, with no contact.”  
“Worried about me?” Kale allowed himself to be shaken. Wrathion gazed up at him with a snarl, before walking away.  
“I don’t know why…but yes.”  
“I am going to soak. If you join me, I’ll tell you the whole story.” Wrathion stopped and turned. Glaring at him for a moment, he stripped off his coat and left it in the sand, before doing the same with his trousers.  
“Fine.” Kale grinned lazily, readjusting him arm. He sank into the water, walking towards the bench by the falls. Wrathion joined him. Instead of him resting against Kale, he pulled Kale against him. The steady beat of his heart calmed him down. Fueled him.  
“I am in need of your boon, Wrathion.” He held up a hand.  
“Already?”  
“It’s almost been a week. Perhaps it goes by quicker with activity.” Wrathion held his hand in a gentle grasp, examining it.  
“This must be agony.”  
“It is not pleasant.”  
“After the bath. I promise.” He kissed the top of his head. Kale held on to him, listening to the gentle lap of the water on the shoreline, before opening his mouth to explain.  
  
“When I woke up two days ago, I’d received a message from one of the few people I remain in contact with. A gnome whom I had many great conversations about the titans, about inventions, about life in general. He told me of the Alliance rebellion. One of the leaders is someone I used to take great pride in.” He sighed heavily.  
“Are you familiar with Zeke Firebrand?”  
“I am indeed. Quite the hot head. I heard he performed magic that hasn’t been heard of for thousands of years.”  
“He’s drawing strength from the Black Empire without realizing its danger. I witnessed it myself.” He recalled the fiery tentacles that held him in their grasp.  
“I flew to confront him. He’s grown strong indeed. Either I’m growing old or he’s grown too strong.”  
“You didn’t use your void magic?” Wrathions voice was almost laughter. Kale shushed him.  
“I’m getting there! The man didn’t need to be beaten immediately. I merely wanted him to see sense!”  
“Men like him, they never do. The only thing they listen too is raw strength. Which I’m sure you showed him.” Kale tutted. Grasping Wrathions hand in his own, he squeezed tight.  
“He was no match, on his own. If he hadn’t been joined by the others, I would have convinced him.” His words held confidence he didn’t feel.  
“My ritual was stopped when I was shot in the shoulder. She could have easily killed me; I’m not sure why she didn’t.”  
“She is lucky she hadn’t. She would have faced my wrath, and she knows better than most the fury of a Black Dragon.” Wrathions voice was a mighty rumble. He meant his words.  
“I suppose I still have some respect. They let me go. Defeated again, so easily.” He gazed at himself in the water.  
“I really am growing old.”  
“Three against one is hardly fair.”  
“I have beaten five without a challenge. Then again, I hold against them powers they usually cannot comprehend.”  
“What were you fighting?” He asked. Kale smirked, remembering.  
“Blackrock Orcs.”  
“I rest my case. They hardly pose a challenge. Now, the three of them?” Wrathion drew a shape in the air with embers and a claw. It morphed, showing each leader in turn.  
“I would very much like to meet his “Zeke.” He seems like a fascinating individual. Kale’s gut wrenched. He looked at Wrathion. He held in his eyes not lust, but the look Kale got when he found a new book to study. He looked away.  
“I suppose you’d think it easy to best him.”  
“Perhaps. If he does channel powers of fire and void, it may be best I keep a wide berth.” Kale pulled away, grinning.  
“So, the Black Dragon does admit there are some things he cannot do.” Wrathion inclined his head.  
“And the Planore admits he is growing older. I suppose humility is on the table today.” Kale stretched his uninjured arm, before settling against the wall and pulling Wrathion to him. The younger man snuggled up, kissing his neck.

“I couldn’t focus in the meeting.” He whispered. Kale rested his cheek on the top of his head.  
“I was too worried about you. I hate that you distract me so.” Kale grumbled a reply.  
“I’ve told you before not to worry.”  
“It’s not as if I can help it.” Wrathion pulled back. Those eyes of his had a mixture of frustration and sadness in them. Kale ran a thumb down his cheek, his palm resting against the side of his face. Wrathion turned into it, kissing his palm, before gritting his teeth and pulling away further. Kale frowned.  
“I’ve told you before, Wrathion.”  
“I’m well aware of the warnings you’ve given. I’ve proven before my ‘infinite’ knowledge isn’t so infinite after all. He sounded bitter. Kale watched him turn away, leaning against the rock wall. He leaned forward, kissing his shoulder, pulling him back against him. Wrathion didn’t resist.  
“You’re still young for your kind. Plenty of time to make mistakes and make up for them.” He nuzzled into him, kissing his ear. Wrathion shied away.  
“I need you with me, Wrathion.” He almost begged. The man turned.  
“I need you. I need you by my side. I have turned everyone away. That is my fault. I need you. Don’t…heed my warnings. Let’s continue this.”  
“And what is ‘this’?” Wrathion asked, head cocked, a smirk on his lips.  
“A relationship. Surely you’ve heard of them.”  
“So admit we’re something then.” Kale rolled his eyes.  
“Must we discuss this? My shoulder hurts and it’s not getting better.”  
“We must. Level the playing field, as they say?” He drew in closer. Kale desperately wanted to kiss those lips. Lose himself in that body.   
“Yes. We’re together. I thought that was obvious.”  
“Nothing is obvious with mortals! You are as fickle as they come! Endlessly frustrating!” Wrathion splashed at the water, sending it flying. Kale let out a mirthless chuckle.  
“I had no intention of becoming serious when I slept with you on the beach a week ago, Wrathion. But here we are. Together. If you’ll have me.”  
“I’ll have to think on it.” The dragon gave him a smirk before wading deeper into the water. Kale watched him; it was endlessly beautiful, watching water drip off his body, his hair a thick, wet tangle. Muscles and skin clear by the light of the moon. It made his jaw drop and his heart hurt.  
“Wrathion.” He called. The man turned. Kale stood up, ignoring the ache in his shoulder. He waded over to Wrathion, who was in all actuality a god. He lifted his chin to him, kissing him. Gentle at first, then harder. Fervently. He ran his uninjured hand up his body, feeling scars and little imperfections that made him all the more perfect in his eyes. Wrathion, in turn, felt him out. Fel scales around his elbow and joints. Scars that ached in phantom pains as he ran his fingers over them.  
“We should retire to the room.” His whispered, pulling away. Kale nodded, running his lips over his cheek. He had beautifully prominent cheekbones. Men usually did, didn’t they? Wrathion transformed. The sudden change from beautiful half-elf to draconic dragon jarred Kale, who stood blinking for a few seconds.  
“I’m offering you a ride to the room. I can let you walk, if you prefer.” Wrathion grumbled, his head turned towards Kale. Shaken out of his momentary stupor, Kale slid on. Wrathion flew over to Kale’s clothes, grabbed them in a forepaw, before fluttering up to the patio. Kale slid off his back, grabbing a towel from the ground and drying off. Wrathion hung up his clothes before turning to him. Kale fell into bed, feeling drained. Strong arms wrapped themselves around him, holding him tight. Kale opened his mouth to speak, but felt his lips covered by a kiss. He pressed into it. Wonderous energy filled him, strengthening his joints, his bones, his very soul. He felt alive once more. Opening his eyes, he gazed at Wrathion. Eyes closed, smile on his lips, he looked about to pass out.  
“You told me you aren’t giving me much of your power.”  
“I’m not. Truth be told, I could give you a fraction of it and it would still tire me. The nature of the ritual.” He fell backwards, head hitting the pillow, and Kale curled up close.  
“Wrathion.” The dragon opened one glowing red eye. Kale took a breath.  
“I want you to stay here with me from now on.” The other eye opened. Eyebrows raised.  
“You want me to live with you? Quite a step.” Kale sighed.  
“Well, you may be frustrating and annoying, but I still love your presence. Will you?” He took his hand, raising it to his lips. Dexterous fingers, perfect for weaving the most complicated spells.  
“I will. It beats sleeping in the heart chamber any day.” Kale sighed in relief. 


	8. Chapter 8

Weeks passed. Kale found himself teaching Wrathion basic things about life in general. The simplest actions intrigued him. Kale supposed that he hadn’t many dealings with mortals on a daily basis. It was greatest when Kale took breaks from grueling hours spent working. Sunbathing was his favorite past time. It warmed his scales and allowed him to think. Wrathion found it all frivolous.  
“You’re wasting your time! We could be out fighting N’Zoth!” He scraped at the ground with long claws, upsetting Kale’s lovely white sand. Kale opened an eye.  
“You’re ruining my sun, whelp.”  
“And you are wasting time! Get up!”  
“There is nothing to be done currently. You need to learn the benefits of relaxation.”  
“Nothing to be done?” Wrathion sounded outraged. Kale opened the other eye, sat up, and stretched. Wings reached for the sky, as he pushed his forelimbs out in front of him.  
“Little whelpling.” Wrathion glowered at him.  
“We have fought N’Zoth. We have pushed him back; for now. We have studied. We have poured over endless tomes, studied his visions, surveyed the shadows. We have done all we can, for now.” He gazed at him.  
“Try to relax. It will help you fight. Ease your mind. N’Zoth preys on the weak, and an overtaxed mind becomes weak.” Wrathion gave him a draconic smirk. Those gilded horns glinted sunlight.  
“So that’s how you resist. Your laziness is your boon.” Kale resisted the dig.  
“Yes. Now you understand why I am the way I am!” He settled back in, turning to the other side, allowing the cooler scales from attention. Wrathion turned in a circle, patting down the sand, and settled in. He turned, over and over, muttering to himself.  
“Just. Sit.” Kale glared at him. Wrathion ducked his head, and sat. The two laid in silence for a time, sunning themselves. Wrathion seemed to accept the suns attention.  
“Feels good, doesn’t it?”  
“I suppose. Not as good as…other things.”  
“I suppose we can walk down that path today, if you wish.” Kale scooted closer. He wasn’t attracted to Wrathion in his drake form, but he felt the connection. He pressed the tip of his nose to Wrathion’s, who opened his eyes.  
“Another form of relaxation?” Kale barked a laugh. He laid down next to the other drake, entwining his tail with his.  
“You have a lot to learn, Wrathion.” The dragon sighed, settling his head on the ground.  
“I suppose I do. Mortals, this ‘relaxation’. So many things for me to learn. He nuzzled against Kale.  
“And you have such a terrible teacher.”  
“I don’t know about that. I find you remarkable.” Wrathion rarely complimented him. Kale looked at him and nuzzled back. They lay there for a time, sunning themselves, tails entwined. It was…wonderful experience.

They did end up making love. Kale wrapped his arms around him, pressed his forehead to his, and the two made love in the sand. He flipped him over, pushed him up against the resort wall, and thrust into him furiously, bending him back. Kissing those ears, relishing in his body. Wrathion left gouges in the wall, his claws cutting deep. Kale had permanent scars from his work on his own body. He gripped his chin, kissing his cheek, whispering to him. One hand wrapped around him, pumping him furiously. He felt him come. He let out a yelp of pleasure as a shiver ran down his spine; Kale could feel it.  
“You always come in the most beautiful ways.” Wrathion attempted to snarl, but it was just so cute to Kale. His kissed him again, drinking him in, eking out every last drop. Wrathion turned. Kale grinned.  
“Done already?”   
“Not even close.” He reached out, running hands down Kale’s face. Kale kissed his palms, both in turn, before pulling his hips to him. The two grappled, hands exploring each other’s bodies. Wrathion took him in his hands, using both. Kale felt his head loll back, his eyes shutting in ecstasy.   
“You are so good with those hands.” He could feel Wrathion’s grin against his neck.  
“It isn’t hard to please you, Kale. I merely have to walk around semi-clothed and you are writhing with desire.” Kale murmured in agreement.   
“That’s your fault, you know. You didn’t need to create such a beautiful illusion.” He felt his breath come in pants, his hips buckling. Wrathion gave him one last tug, gazing at him, and he came with a shout. It echoed throughout the steam pools.   
“I made a mess on you.” He remarked, running his hands down his sweaty face. Wrathion looked down. He was covered; it shone clearly on his dark skin. He gave Kale a grin.  
“If only we had some way of washing off.” He took his hand, leading him to the pools, when Kale stopped. A faint prickling on the back of his neck. A presence. Wrathion looked at him with curiosity, dropping his hand.   
“What is it?”  
“Someone is watching us.”  
“Nonsense.” Kale held up a hand. Wrathion hushed, looking skyward. Kale pulled on his clothes, before jumping skyward. Wrathion called after him.  
“Where are you going?” Kale turned in midair, flapping just above him.  
“I think I know who it is. Stay here, Wrathion.” He dashed away, leaving Wrathion to sulk.  
  
It didn’t take long to find the intruder. He was a fuming statue of gold and bronze. His pale blonde hair nearly white in the sunlight. Kale settled down in front of him, transforming.  
“My dear son. Nyota. To what do I owe the pleasure?” Nyota’s eyes were narrowed in rage, his lips pulled back in a snarl.  
“I came to see my father. To see if he’s alive. Mother wanted to know! And I see you…with…” Nyota sputtered, unable to find words to describe his disgust. Kale pulled back.  
“So you saw me.”  
“I saw you with a man! A dragon! How could you?” Kale took a step forward, and Nyota took a step back. Undaunted, Kale explained.  
“Your mother and I came to a consensus. She is seeing someone, is she not?”   
“That isn’t my point!”  
“How is it not the point?”  
“How are you so…calm! You are sleeping with a MAN!” His voice turned into a shout. His delicately combed hair was starting to fray, strands leaking out of its structure. Kale found his patience wearing thin.  
“What I do in my time is of no concern-.”  
“You’re supposed to be fighting N’Zoth!”   
“And you’re supposed to be with the Alliance! Instead I find you betrayed your Kings trust, helped destroy the Alliance I helped build!” Kale roared back. Nyota didn’t move. His lip curled.  
“You helped build? Mother helped build it. You stayed in your little cubby, reading books and taking down data. What have you done to help anyone besides yourself?” Kale felt as if he’d been slapped.   
“I will not hear that from you.” His voice a low whisper, he continued.  
“What I do here, with whom, is of no concern. Your mother and I are no longer married.”  
“She still cares! And I find you here, screwing a man of all things, with zero concern for her.”  
“I STILL LOVE HER!” Kale shouted, exploding again. Shadows danced around him. Nyota finally shrunk back.  
“Alyica means more to me than anything! I cannot have her! I have forsaken everything I once loved in order to defeat this ancient evil that most of the world seems to think is of very little threat.” He poked his son in the chest. Nyota looked at the finger with an expression of utmost contempt. Kale glanced to the left, raising his brows. A figure was fast approaching.  
“If you love her, why are you with Wrathion?” Nyota asked. Kale glanced at the figure again. Getting closer now.  
“You can care for multiple people. Just as your mother can love me and Davies as the same time.”  
“It’s not even close-.”  
“You should watch out.” Kale remarked, taking a step back. Nyota looked at him, nonplussed.  
“For what? You? You don’t scare me, father.”  
“Oh no. For that.” Kale pointed. Nyota glanced to his right, his eyed widened, before he leapt into the air and transformed. A black drake, covered in chitinous scales with a club like tail and gilded horns, screamed past.  
“Ah! A little Bronze Drake! Let us see how you fly!” Wrathion laughed, his teeth bared. Nyota flew away, wings beating furiously, and Wrathion gave chase. Kale sighed. His relationship was something he was hoping his son would never find out. Still, best follow. Wrathion would easily overcome him. He followed, flying towards their shrinking figures.  
  
Nyota was fast. Very fast. But Wrathion was faster. The bronze drake dove, spinning, and Wrathion followed, his wings flat against him, front talons outstretched. Kale observed from the air. Nyota was unpracticed with aerial combat. His wings had ever been a way for transport, nothing more. Being one with the Bronze Flight, his humanoid form was better for magic. Wrathion was a dragon. A young one at that. Nyota had no hope of competing. The black drake caught up, claws sinking into the bronze. Kale saw blood hit the air. Snarling, he surged forward.   
  
“You have no hope of outpacing me, little Bronze Drake.” Wrathion roared. Nyota spun, sinking his teeth into Wrathion’s flank. Surprised, he let go, and his quarry surged forward. Kale joined the fight. His eyes on Wrathion’s bleeding form, he was unable to react as Nyota let loose a dazzling curtain of sand. It froze him in place. Wrathion easily outmaneuvered it, banking upwards.  
“Your magic is no match for me.” Nyota panted, eyes wide with fear. He dove to the ground. Kale regained control, shaking his head, disoriented. He looked down, saw the two of them crashing to the ground, and dove. Nyota hit, his back cratering the sand. Wrathion landed on all fours. He snarled at Nyota, who blinked, shaking his head in confusion. The two began to circle.  
“Why do you fight me?”  
“Protecting what is mine.”  
“Kale?” Nyota snorted. This enraged Wrathion who surged forward. In an instant, bloody gashes opened on Nyotas muzzle. He screamed in fury, shaking his reptilian head.  
“You protect what isn’t worth protecting!”  
“What does the Bronze Flight know of protection? You can’t even protect what’s in your charge! The time ways are ever a mess!”  
“That’s rich, coming from you.” Nyota snarled. He lunged. Wrathion held up his tail to deflect his claws, but Nyota bowled into him instead, pinning him beneath.  
“It is you who started two wars. It is you who created the mess that is Dreanor. It is your fault, Wrathion, that Teldrassil burned. All of this is because of you.” Kale landed on a rock. Nyota wasn’t wrong. Wrathion thrashed his tail against the ground, leaving tracts in the sand. He clawed at Nyotas chest, digging deep. Nyota let him go. Wrathion took his chance. He pinned Nyota underneath him, meaning to strike. Kale leapt from his perch and smashed his club like tail into him. Wrathion let out a yelp of pain, spinning away.  
“He may deserve it, but he’s still my son, Wrathion.” He snarled, flapping above him. Wrathion snarled up at him, panting. Nyota took his chance, flying away. Kale followed.  
“You’re bleeding quite heavily.”  
“What do you care.”  
“Despite our differences and your inability to understand it, I do love you, Nyota.” Nyota didn’t answer. Blood dripped from his wounds, leaving tracks in the air as it fell behind them.  
“Nyota!”  
“What?!” He spun.  
“Let me take care of those wounds.”  
“I don’t want you touching me.” The words came out a scream. He shied back, landing on a rocky edifice near the border of Un’Goro. Kale didn’t move from his position. He looked down at his son, pained. Hatred lined every corner of his draconic face. Why couldn’t Nyota see that he was just a flawed father? Or was it revulsion in his eyes?  
“Is it that disgusting to you? That I found companionship?”  
“With Wrathion, of all beings?” Nyota hissed.  
“Not to mention, I never thought you’d stoop so low as to find it with a man.” Kale let out a dry life.  
“Life works in mysterious ways, son. It’s not as if I planned to be attracted to him. It just happened.” Nyota turned away. His claws broke the rock, sending chips to the chasm below.  
“Are you going to tell your mother?” Kale asked. He landed next to him. Nyota, to his credit, didn’t move away. He just stared forward.  
“No.” Kale gazed at him.  
“She has enough to worry about. To fret about. She’s in enough pain.” He finally looked at him.  
“I don’t need to add you sleeping with men to that.” Kale frowned.  
“Man. One man. Don’t add unnecessary hyperbole to the situation, Nyota. I plan to be dead before the year ends, regardless.” He flapped his wings, taking off. Nyota looked up at him.  
“Plan to be dead? Have you ever lived to actually live?”  
“When I was with your mother, I lived to live. Yes, I know. I was a terrible father to you. Worse as a husband. But I tried. Really, I did.” Kale responded, flying a few inches above Nyota. His bronze scales reflected the sun, turning him a brilliant amber.  
“Believe me. I tried.”  
“I wish I could believe it. Maybe one day, I will.” With those words, he took off, flying east. Towards the Caverns of Time. If only Kale were welcome there, he would visit himself one last time. He watched his son quickly turn into a black speck and fade away, before flying away. Wrathion had left. All that remained of their duel was blood oozing into the sand. Tiny aqir already lapped at it, scattering as Kale drew close.  
He turned to look at where Wrathion stood, a pit of worry settling in his stomach. Would he leave him for this? He flew off towards the Steam Pools, hoping to find him there, bandaging his wounds. He arrived a few minutes later. Not finding him, he took off, that feeling of worry growing stronger. He began to fly low over the ground, searching for traces. Magni’s Encampment was thirty minutes away. He swooped back into the Steam Pools, flying into their room. He looked around wildly, running his hands through his hair, before noticing a figure laying prone on the bed. He stopped his wild pacing.   
“You know, that hurt a lot.” Kale simply stared. Wrathion slid off the bed. Shirtless, a bruise was blossoming across his ribs.   
“I was worried about you.” He stood as Wrathion approached, stopping short of arms reach.   
“Worried about me? You broke my ribs.” It wasn’t really an admonition. More of a fact. A smirk spread across his face.  
“You mad at me for beating up your son?”  
“I was afraid you’d kill him.”  
“Oh please.” Wrathion waved the thought away.  
“He wouldn’t even be worth the kill.” Kale stepped forward. He wasn’t angry with Wrathion. Nyota deserved the beating. If anything, he was…pleased that Wrathion felt the need to defend him.   
“You’re going to have a mighty bruise.” He ran tentative fingers along the bruise, and Wrathion shied away.  
“Oh yes. Thank you for this.” He opened his mouth for another remark, but Kale swept him into his arms, kissing him.   
“Were you really that worried about me?” He asked, as Kale let go. He nodded, somewhat sheepish.   
“Figured you’d be angry.”  
“Oh I was.” Wrathion turned back to the bed, climbing, somewhat gingerly, on it. Kale followed, desperately wanting to hold him. He examined the bruise.  
“Nothing is broken.”  
“Fortunate for you.” Kale leaned down, running his lips over his side. Wrathion gave him a small smile.  
“Kissing it better?”  
“Apologizing, more like.” Wrathion took his wrists, pulling him up on the bed. His hands ran down his sides, resting on his hips.   
“I could use an apology yes. I’ll have quite a bruise tomorrow.” He kissed him. Kale pushed into it, rolling over on the mattress, running his hands through that thick mane of hair.  
“Thought you’d leave me.” He grumbled as Wrathion moved his lips to his neck. He felt him pause.  
“You thought I’d leave you?”  
“Er. Yes.” The moment of vulnerability had passed. Kale suddenly found himself embarrassed. He shifted, hoisting himself up on his elbows, looking at him level. Wrathion cocked his head.  
“I would have left you long ago if I wanted, Kale.” He wrapped his fingers around the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head. Kale gazed at him.  
“And why didn’t you?”  
“You know the answer to that.” He tapped his delicate fingers on hem of Kale’s pants for a moment, a smirk playing on his lips.   
“I suppose I do.” Wrathion began to remove his trousers, but Kale stopped him.  
“You sure you up for this?” The dragon huffed, sighing heavily.  
“I’m a dragon, Kale. It will take far more than a bruise to injure me. Now do you want this, or no?” Rolling his eyes, Kale nodded. He grinned, pulling them down to his ankles, before diving on him. Kale had never seen him so eager. His lips felt divine.  
“Quite eager, aren’t you?”  
“I suppose it’s your turn. You’ve pleasured me twice.” He raised a brow, smirking. Kale gave him a lazy grin in return.  
“Show me how good you are.” Wrathion continued his slow, easy pace. Kale watched, enraptured. This man was divine. He was beautiful. He was also very, very good at giving head. He covered him in kisses, sucked in all the right places, and overall, worshipped Kale in ways he’d never experienced. Kale found himself focused more on Wrathion’s expression of ecstasy than his own pleasure.  
“You are so good.” Kale murmured. He reached down, running his fingers down his cheek. Wrathion let him fall out of his mouth. Pressing into his touch, he smiled.  
“You taste…” He seemed a lost for words. Kale found himself grinning.  
“Good? Bad? Terrible? Amazing? You must know a proper adjective.” He watched as he ran a tongue up his length, from base to tip. Kale gasped, clenching his fists. Wrathion chuckled against him, giving him tiny little pecks of kisses.   
“Very good.” Kale continued to run his thumb down his jawline as Wrathion worked, egging him on. It felt divine. Finally, after some coaxing, Kale came, spurting down his throat. Wrathion’s eyes widened in surprise, and he drew back. Kale sat up, worried he’d offended him, or worse, disgusted him.  
“That was…a surprise.” He swallowed, eyeing Kale. Kale grinned in delight. He took his hands  
“It’s happened before.”  
“I figured I’d have time to-.” He shook his head, his eyes trailing from Kale's face down his body.   
“Nevermind.”  
“Love when you do it to me.” Kale pulled him into a tight hug, holding him tight. Wrathion snuggled against him, his cheek pressed against his chest. They laid like that for a time; Wrathion falling into a light doze against his chest. Kale spent the time thinking. He really was falling in love with him. Steadily. Like the slow drip of water from a leaky tap. He looked down at the sleeping dragon, his chest rising and falling with slow breaths, and knew it to be true. He loved him.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kale explains what Love is In The Air means to Wrathion, who finds the holiday confusing.

Another week past. Wrathion found more and more reasons to stay with Kale, though his business did find him away more often than Kale would like. It was fortunate then, that Kale was able to enter the Heart Chamber. Even if it was only for a few hours, it allowed him to be privy to meetings that Wrathion would have to relay. Magni always eyed him suspiciously. Kale, finally annoyed, asked him what was up.  
  
“Me brother Brann speaks very highly of ya.”  
“Brann is a good friend of mine. He helped me discover the secrets of my people.” At these words, Wrathion looked up.  
“I wonder then, why ye would want to do this to yourself. The shadows…” Magni shivered. Kale cocked his head. He knew Magni was not trying to be rude, he was legitimately concerned for Kale.  
“I was raised around shadow magic and corruption, Speaker. It’s just how I grew up.” Wrathion snickered.  
“I’m still amazed my Uncle didn’t eat you.” He called from the opposite end of the chamber. Kale felt his heart leap at his voice. Swallowing the emotion, he cracked a small smile.  
“I imagine he was curious as to how a tiny baby had the power to call him between worlds.”  
  
  
  
Kale had finally tracked down Aszhara, and to larger extent, Xal’atath. She was being tortured in Nya’lotha. In his wanderings of the shadows, he came across a conversation between Faceless. Loose lipped minions would ever be the downfall of their masters. He slowly came to, his spirit melding with his body. He noticed, upon sitting up, that Wrathion sat on the end of the bed, looking down at something in his hands.  
“Ah. Finally awake.” The dragon noted, smiling. Kale rubbed his eyes.  
“My ventures into the shadows are finally paying off.” He noticed something was off with Wrathion, who looked perturbed.  
“What’s up.” He scooted behind him, taking him in his arms. Wrathion pulled away, sliding off the bed.  
“I was walking around the camp.” He tossed something at Kale. It was a single red rose, thorns removed. He picked it up.  
“Apparently there’s a holiday coming up. I must admit, mortal holidays confuse me, but this one…” He paused. Kale picked up the rose, gazing at the delicate folded petals. He looked back at Wrathion.  
“What is Love is in the Air?” He sounded almost embarassed. Kale let out a laugh, and sat up. He crossed to the bathroom to find a pitcher of water for the rose.  
“It’s a holiday for couples. Lasts a few weeks. Main day is the fourteenth.” He brough the pitcher out, rose in hand, and set it on the table.  
“Who gave you the rose?”  
“A woman who asked to be my date.” Kale looked at Wrathion in utmost shock. A WOMAN? How uncomfortable Wrathion must have been! He began to laugh, which turned into a fit.  
“A WOMAN? Wrathion, you have to tell me how that went down!” To his delight, the Prince’s cheeks went from their normal chocolate color to a darker shade.  
“It was…stop laughing!” He turned away. Kale laughed harder.  
“It was not pleasant! She cornered me. It took all I had not to fly away!” He began to pace.  
“She knew who and what I was, but it didn’t seem to concern her!”  
“What race was she? Oh please tell me she was a gnome.”  
“A tall and graceful elf. I’m sure she’s a beauty to those who are…attracted to women.” Wrathion clenched his fists.  
“She thrust the rose into my hand.”  
“Did you say no?”  
“I did. Quite blatantly. Didn’t seem to perturb her.”  
“Elves can be quite cocky.” Kale finally stopped giggling, and strode over to Wrathion. He pulled him into his arms.  
“Well, now that you know what Love is in the Air is about…you planning on celebrating it?” He kissed the side of his head. Wrathion sighed.  
“I must admit, it seems daunting.”  
“It’s just a holiday for couples to exchange gifts and spend time with one another, Wrathion.”  
“I have no idea what to get you.” Kale let out a hollow laugh.  
“I didn’t know you were planning on spending it with me.” Wrathion looked at him disdain, smacking him upside the head. Kale grinned. More seriously, he continued.  
“I don’t need anything, Wrathion.”  
“I must get you something.”  
“What you MUST do is lay in bed naked and let me gaze at you.” He trailed his lips down his neck. Wrathion shivered, pulling free.  
“I really don’t need or want anything!” Kale leaned forward, hands splayed outward. Wrathion took them by the fingers, looking down at them.  
“What did you get Alycia? Surely you spent the holiday with her.” Kale made a face.  
“One of them. I got her a few books on War and Strategy.” That elicited a smirk.  
“Did she appreciate the books?”  
“She did, actually. Thank you very much.” He didn’t want to think about Alycia. It made his chest hurt. He stood up.  
“That doesn’t help my predicament.” Kale finally wheeled on him, grabbing him by the shoulders.  
“Wrathion. I. Don’t. Want. Anything.” He turned away. The dragon finally dropped the subject, but Kale knew he was still stewing on it. He flew away a short while later, and it gave Kale the opportunity to explore the resort a bit more. Up until now, he’d been busy working on his transcriptions and flying back and forth to Gadgetzhan for materials. The fact that it was currently Love is in the Air surprised him. Truth be told, he wanted to get Wrathion something. It was also a good time to confess his feelings.  
He found himself in the lobby. Around the sitting areas were many books, dusty with disuse. Some were in immense piles, others were organized in shelves. He examined them. A lot of them were cheap novellas with poor plot and even poorer writing, but there were few non-fiction books laying around. He turned to the shelf, and felt a kick in the throat. Sitting in the middle, it’s brilliant plum colored spine and golden lettering clear in his shadowy light, was his own book. The first he’d written, after years and years of research. A book on the Planore. He pulled it out, gazing at the title, a small smile playing on his lips.  
  
He was very proud of this. The Planore had been on Azeroth for maybe three years at the time, and he’d finally compiled enough information to publish exactly what his people were. He knew Wrathion had been begging him to tell him of his people. Kale wanted to indulge him, but the fact was there was just no place he could start. He thumbed through the book. Details on anatomy, magic, and history. One of the books he was thoroughly proud of. He found a gift for Wrathion after all. Just in time, for the main day was in a week, and he’d hate to have to travel to find something suitable.

Days passed. Kale wrapped Wrathion’s gift in spare parchment, which he decorated with drawings of dragons and fire swirlies. He hid it under the bed. Wrathion came home each night, looking oddly at ease. Kale and he spent many hours talking late into the evening, discussing all matters under the sun, before retiring in eachothers arms. When the main day of the holiday arrived, Kale found his stomach uneasy. The last time he’d felt this way, he’d asked Alycia to marry him. Wrathion flew the patio entrance, looking nervous.  
“Didn’t wake up beside you like usual.” Kale remarked, pulling his gift from under the bed. Wrathion shrugged.  
“I had matters to attend to at the chamber.” He gestured outside.  
“I’ve set up…a picnic of sorts.” Kale looked at him, incredulous.  
“You know what a picnic is?”  
“I am not entirely naieve. I’ve picked up a few things.” Wrathion scowled at him, but Kale kissed his cheek.  
“I’ll be right out.” Wrathion gave him a smile before flying back out. Kale pulled on some of the nicer clothes Wrathion had made him: a suit with a plunging neckline. It exposed his collarbones, and the sleeves were short enough to be breathable in the humid air. He ran a hand through his messy hair. He stopped as he realized what he was doing.  
He was gussying up. For Wrathion. He managed a smile at the ridiculousness. He’d fallen hard, hadn’t he? Sighing to himself, he grabbed Wrathion’s gift and flew out the window, landing next to a blanket with a pile of food placed around it. A roast chicken, some salad, along with endless snacks and dips. Around the outer edges lay pastries and cakes. Kale licked his lips.  
“Where on Azeroth did you get this?”  
“I have…a contact that managed to procure it for me.” Wrathion left it at that. Kale sat cross-legged next to him.  
“I overheard a couple planning a picnic.” He explained. To his credit, he didn’t offer Kale any food, merely dug in himself.  
“I rather liked the idea.”  
“Never been on one.” Kale admitted, taking a slice of cake. Wrathion raised a brow,  
“Never? Also, that’s for later.” He smacked the cake out of Kale’s hand. Sighing, Kale instead started carving the chicken.  
“Never. Alycia always preferred to be served food. She was very happy to marry into wealth.” Kale made a face.  
“I never liked people serving me. I suppose if you grew up like she did, in squalor and poverty, it would be a nice change.”  
“I’ve personally never minded being served.” Kale rolled his eyes, biting into the chicken. It perfectly seasoned and hadn’t lost its texture with chilling.  
“You were born a Black Prince. You were waited on hand and foot the moment you hatched, Wrathion. Of course you don’t mind.”  
“True. I’ve begun to learn the benefits of self-reliance.” He raised a glass of wine. Kale looked round, saw the cooler, and poured himself a glass.  
“Arcwine?”  
“The very same. A rare vintage now, with the Nightwell gone.” Kale sipped. The notes of magic hung on his tongue. It felt like tiny popping sparks. The wine itself tasted wonderful, with dry flavor and hint of sweetness.  
“You picked a good barrel, then.”  
“Oh, I didn’t select it.” Wrathion admitted. “I merely asked for a bottle. My agents did the rest.” Kale grinned.  
“I’ve always been more of a whiskey fan.” The dragon made a face.  
“Disgusting. Gin is far superior.”  
“You, my friend, need to learn proper taste.” Kale grinned at Wrathion, who smirked back. They ate in silence for a time. It was very relaxing, sitting outside next to the water, listening to it lap at the shoreline.  
“You know, Kale. I’ve been meaning to ask.”  
“Alright. What is it?”  
“Why was your son so angry?” Kale looked at him. Wrathion gazed at him with those haughty red eyes. Sighing, Kale replied.  
“He was angry he saw us together. Angry I was with someone. And above all, angry the person I was with happened to be a man.” Kale shrugged.  
“I asked myself the same questions when I first started seeing you. It didn’t bother me then and it doesn’t bother me now.”  
“He does realize his mother is seeing someone else, right?”  
“Oh, he knows. Alycia seems to be very forward about her relationship with Davies, from what I’ve heard.” He winced internally.  
“No, he doesn’t mind her because she’s seeing a man. He minds me because I am A) Someone he cannot stand and B) Sleeping with someone who happens to share my anatomy.” Wrathion barked a laugh.  
“Double standards.”  
“He’s young, foolish, and believes he’s always right. As you clearly saw. Nyota has a lot to learn.” He gave Wrathion a sidelong glance.  
“Is there a reason you attacked him so violently?” He was given a grin in reply.  
“Wanted to protect what’s mine, really. Plus, I suppose there’s part of me that itches for a proper fight.” He flexed his fingers, where, underneath, were claws.  
“Cake time.” Kale dove for the cake, taking a bite before Wrathion could protest.  
“You disgust me.”  
“You love me anyways!” Kale grinned through a mouthful of sweets. The cake was lovely, as was everything at the picnic. He felt he didn’t deserve such finery. Wrathion was going to reply, but Kale reached behind him and gave him his gift.  
“Here. Your gift.” Wrathion’s eyes widened.  
“You got me something?”  
“Of course I did. I was lucky to find it.” He watched him unwrap it, his reaction to the drawings on the parchment, and finally, his surprise at the gift itself.  
“One of your books.” He mouthed the title, and looked up. He grinned at Kale.  
“Your book on Planore!”  
“I know you’ve been wanting me to tell you about them.” He scooted closer, moving food items out of the way.  
“But I don’t know where to start. This way, it’s still me telling you.” He kissed his cheek. Wrathion opened the book, reading the front page. It was a forward, written by Brann Bronzebeard.  
“This is…wonderful. Thank you, Kale.” He turned and kissed him. Kale accepted the kiss, closing his eyes and leaning into him. He felt a box being dropped into his hands. Pulling away, he looked at it.  
“My gift to you.” Wrathion turned away, looking at his new book. Kale blinked, examining the item.  


It was ornate, carved wood. A pattern of dragon scales covered all 6 sides, and the lid was inlaid with a ruby.  
“Thank you for the lovely box, Wrathion.” He meant it. He heard him scoff.  
“Open the damn thing.” Grinning, Kale opened it. Inside, nestled on a cushion of velvet, was a necklace. Quite masculine in appearance, it was short, and made of what appeared to be black dragon scales on a sturdy chain. The scales grew larger towards the bottom, where the last one was inlaid with another ruby. He picked it up, gazing at in awe.  
“Did…you make this?”  
“Do you like it?” Wrathion asked, looking wary.  
“I…I adore it.” The scales were iridescent, glinting in the sun. He slipped the necklace on. It fit snugly around his collar bones.  
“Are they your own scales?”  
“Yes. Shed scales, but scales the same.”  
“This is…the most touching gift I’ve ever received, Wrathion. Thank you. Very much.” He pulled him into a tight hug. He felt him grin against him, felt lips kiss his neck.  
“I’m glad you love it.” He settled with his back nestled up against Kale and began to read. Kale pressed his cheek against his head, holding him tightly.  
“There’s something I must confess, Wrathion.”  
“Oh?”  
“I said, quite a while ago, that I could never love you.” He swallowed, feeling Wrathion tense in his arms.  
“I was…entirely incorrect in my assessment of our relationship.” Wrathion turned, his eyes wide.  
“I do indeed love you. I figured now would be a-.” He was cut off by the sudden kiss. Wrathion pushed him to the ground, his hands folding into his own. Kale grinned into the kiss. Oh he did love this man, this dragon. He wanted to spend every waking moment with him. What better moment then now? Wrathion pulled away, panting slightly, the grin, so silly on his face, still present. He seemed a loss for words.  
“Shall we retire to the bedroom?” Kale asked hopefully. To his disappointment, Wrathion shook his head.  
“Not at the moment. I want some time to read my gift.” He winked.  
“Don’t worry, my love. We’ll make love soon enough.” My love. What a wonderful term. He pulled Wrathion to him once more, finding his ears and kissing them, before resting his cheek against his head and closing his eyes. Yes. His love. All his.

Making love in the moonlight on the sand was an experience he’d never forget. He knew, deep down, this relationship would never last. Kale’s days were numbered. He was determined, however, to spend the rest of them in Wrathion’s company.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's all folks! I have a blast writing this. These two are perfection. I'll be posting shorts of them on tumblr, so be sure to check it out! (stormlordandravens).


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